American at Hogwarts
by Amalia Fulghum
Summary: ...
1. Introduction

Fan Fic (Harry Potter)  
  
I awoke, lying on my bed, eyes still closed. I cracked a cautious eye to see who, or what, woke me up and found a thin blonde woman peering down at me with a forced smile stamped on her face.  
  
"Hello, dear," said Petunia Dursley, obviously struggling to be polite. At first I panicked, not remembering why I was with this British woman, but relaxed once the memory came back to me. I was staying with them as a favor to my stepfather, a very powerful manager in the American branch of the drill company, Drunnings. Vernon Dursley, er, happily volunteered when my stepfather asked who would be able to house me for the summer in Britain. I was supposed to be going to, ack, boarding school next year. Looking up at the wife of this co-worker, I knew it was a trouble for her to be nice to anyone except her Dinky Duddykins, Dudley Dursley. I smiled, more of a grimace than a smile, and got out of bed to get dressed.  
  
"Breakfast is ready," she said, the smile still frozen on her face, and left without another word. I stuck my tongue out at the door and sighed, thinking about the past summer. Vernon and Petunia hate me, and they spoil their fat son, who has a terrible crush on me. I got up and pulled on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, a bulky sweater, and some Nikes. I frowned suddenly. There was something I forgot, something important, like a big upcoming event. Oh, well, I thought, yawning. It'll come to me.  
  
"Good morning, Charlotte!" said Vernon Dursley genially when I got into the kitchen. I grit my teeth when he called me by my first name. It was too formal, I didn't like it. "Have a seat! Breakfast is served!" He chortled, and with that, settled down to read the newspaper. He was probably more annoying than Petunia, putting on the whole buddy-buddy act, thinking that I could tell my stepfather what a wonderful person he was. As if I had any influence. The only thing my stepfather knew about me was my inamei. I forced another smile anyway and took a seat. Petunia set a plate of grapefruit and a glass of orange juice in front of me. I resisted the urge to make another face. Dudley was more than slightly overweight, and the Dursleys were on a diet. Though, grapefruit was one of the better foods I had been served. Yesterday, Petunia made something called pickled beets, which looked more like a cow pie than any form of food. Just then, Dudley Dursley entered the room and I was once more reminded of a large pig. The only thing missing was a corkscrew tail. Dudley caught a glimpse of me and smiled shyly.  
  
"Good-morning, Charlotte," he said coyishly, taking two seats next to me. "I hope you slept well?" I forced a smile.  
  
"Yes, Dudley, I slept fine," I said politely. Harry entered the room, then, rubbing his eyes. He was dressed for the day, but still looked dreary and his jet-black hair was sticking up in every direction. But then again, it always was.  
  
"Harry, come get more grapefruit out for Dudley," snapped Petunia, leaving the room. Harry glared in her direction and walked to the refrigerator. He glanced at me and his face lightened. I grinned encouragingly at him. I felt sorry for Harry, how his aunt and uncle and cousin always treated him. They were always ordering him around, and leaving him behind on family outings. But Harry had also been my only friend this whole summer. Though I had to admit, he was very strange. I had never seen inside his room, and his aunt and uncle always went nuts if anyone said anything that had to do with magic or witches. I got a little squeamish thinking about it. I was afraid maybe they had figured out my secret, or my stepfather had and had told them about it. I scooped out a chunk of tart grapefruit, worrying about it. No, they couldn't know, I thought. They only freaked out when Harry did it. I froze, spoon half way to my mouth. Could it be? Could Harry be the same as me? That would explain his secrecy. I could understand why the Dursleys would want to keep something like that from the stepdaughter of a powerful boss. I was jerked out of my thoughts by a tap on the shoulder.  
  
"Charlie, are you all right?" murmured Harry, concerned. I smiled slightly. Harry had saved me from my name, and given me the nickname of 'Charlie'. I thought it was playful and kind of goofy, like me. Better than stuffy, boring 'Charlotte'. I glanced at Harry, who was sitting on the other side of me. I nodded in response to his question, looking at him in a new light. I shot a weary look in Dudley's direction to find him peering at me uncomfortably. He smiled.  
  
"Your eyes were popping out," he said pointedly. "But there, you look normal now." I smiled sarcastically. You never look normal, I said to him in my mind. You look like a barnyard animal.  
  
"I bet your eyes never pop out," I said, taking a sip of my orange juice. I grinned at Harry. He was the only one who hated these people more than I did, and they weren't even my family. I turned back to Dudley. He shook his head, digging greedily into his grapefruit.  
  
"They're too small to pop," I said under my breath. Harry heard me, though, and snorted into his cup of milk.  
  
"What's so funny, boy?" demanded his uncle, turning the page in the paper.  
  
"Nothing, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied, giving me a Look. I smiled placidly. Vernon folded his paper and set it on the table.  
  
"All right. As you all know, today is our monthly family outing. We will be going, erm, wherever Dudley wishes," he said professionally. "Where are we going, Dudley, my boy?" he asked, clapping him on the shoulder. Dudley chewed thoughtfully.  
  
"To the theatre," he replied shortly, and proceeded to scoop out the remains of his grapefruit. Vernon clapped his hands together.  
  
"Well, then, if you're done, and everyone is ready, we'll leave," he said merrily. I raised an eyebrow. iEveryonei? I thought skeptically. "Come on, get your coats, and we'll drop Harry off at Mrs. Figg's," he continued, getting up from the table. My hopes fell. But from the look on his face, Harry looked content. Petunia entered the room, with a sour look on her face.  
  
"I've just been on the phone with Mrs. Figg," she bitterly. "She said she can't take ihimi," she paused, nodding sharply at Harry," because she's got to visit her daughter." Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley gave Harry identical looks of venom.  
  
"Can't we leave him with anyone else?" asked Vernon. Petunia shook her head.  
  
"No, don't you think I've tried everyone? We'll either have to take him with us, or leave him here," she said bitterly. Jeez, I thought. They act as if he's not even in the room.  
  
"Well, we can't take him with us," announced Vernon. Then, in an undertone, as though I couldn't hear, "Don't you remember what happened last time?" Petunia nodded solemnly. "We'll just have to leave him here." I glanced at Harry, and was surprised to see that he was beaming, as if he iwantedi to stay home. I shrugged it off. I would never understand Harry Potter.  
  
"Oh, all right," snapped Petunia, walking toward the door. "But if I come home to find my house in disarray, you will-," she paused mid-threat and glanced at me, "be punished." Harry nodded happily. Vernon and Dudley stood up and walked to the door. They all put their coats on, and stood at the door, waiting expectantly.  
  
"Aren't you coming, dear?" asked Petunia, that forced smile back again. She obviously thought I wasn't too bright in the head. My mind raced for an excuse.  
  
"Ah, actually, I'm not feeling well, I thought I could just stay home and rest," I lied. Petunia and Vernon nodded in fake sympathy. I almost lost my composure and laughed hysterically, but bit the inside of my cheek instead. "And I could, ah, make sure Harry doesn't wreck anything," I said, barely controlling myself. I glanced sidelong at Harry. He was glaring at me, but obviously trying not to laugh. We both turned back to Petunia and Vernon and stared at them with identical stoic looks on our faces.  
  
"All right," said Vernon. "I do hope you feel better." And with that, they were out the door. Well, Dudley got stuck for a few moments, and itheni they were out the door. 


	2. Chapter Two

"You're not feeling well?" Harry asked, eyebrows raised. I shrugged, draining the last of my orange juice.  
  
"I'd rather clean my toenails than go out with Dudley," I said haughtily. Harry choked on the last of his grapefruit. "Besides," I said seriously. "I need to baby-sit you, remember?" He narrowed his eyes and smiled sarcastically. "No, seriously, I need to talk to you," I said, piling up the plates next to the sink.  
  
"What about?" he asked. I dumped grapefruit peels in the trash and turned to face him.  
  
"Well, I hope what I think is right, or I'm going to be really embarrassed," I said awkwardly. "Hmmm, how do I say this?"  
  
"Just say it," he said, loading the dishwasher. I felt slightly annoyed at his nonchalance. I was really serious.  
  
"Okay," I said, letting only a note of sarcasm into my voice. "Are you a wizard?" I blurted. Harry looked at me incredulously. I stared for a few moments, then blinked.  
  
"Er, no, of course not," he said unconvincingly. My eyes widened.  
  
"You are! You are, I knew it!" I said excitedly. He shook his head and opened his mouth to say more, but I cut him off.  
  
"It's ok, I-" I started to say.  
  
"Charlie, you can't tell anyone," he said worredly. I shook my head, smiling. "If Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon found out that you found out, they'd-"  
  
"Harry! Get a hold of yourself," I said comically. I tried not to smile at his slight hysteria. "It's all right. I'm a witch," I said, enjoying the words. But not as much as I enjoyed Harry's reaction. His eyes flashed with surprise and his mouth dropped open. I grinned.  
  
"But, how, I mean, where did you go to school?" he asked, still awed.  
  
"Harry, there are other wizarding schools besides Hogwarts," I began, sitting down in a chair. "I went to Salem Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ah, without telling my stepfather," I added sheepishly. "He thought I was going to boarding school in Massachusetts. But, anyway, last year I got a letter from a school called Hogwarts," I paused, glancing at Harry. He was grinning from ear to ear. "They told me that there was a mistake, that I was originally meant to go there, but I was accidentally put on the list for the top school in America, not for Britain. So, then I had a bit of a problem on my hands. How was I supposed to go to school in England when I was stuck in Massachusetts? I went to talk to my stepfather, and presented the idea of going to a school here. He agreed, probably so he wouldn't have to see me ever," I added, letting a tone of bitterness enter my voice. Harry looked at me sympathetically. "Well, I still don't know how I'm going to get to Hogwarts, but I'm a lot closer than I was." I shrugged.  
  
Harry sat thinking for a minute. "Don't worry, we'll think of something," he said, patting my arm. "But for now, what do you want to do? We've got the house to ourselves 'til 5 o'clock," he said, grinning evilly. I smiled back.  
  
"Well, actually, could I see some of your stuff? Like your owl or schoolbooks?" I asked timidly. Harry nodded.  
  
"Of course! And it would be nice to talk to someone about magic. I've been especially restricted, with you around this summer," he added. "C'mon, let's go upstairs."  
  
I followed him upstairs and into his room, and was surprised to find a room as sparse as mine. I had only a bed, a dresser with a mirror, and my trunk full of clothes (and magical items). Harry's was the same, except with an empty cage next to the window, and a lumpy blanket in the corner. Harry motioned for me to sit down. I plopped down on the floor, put my hands in my lap, and looked around. I was amazed at how cruel this family could be to their own blood relative. I mean, teasing from Dudley was to be expected, but Petunia and Vernon had no reason to hate Harry, besides the fact that he was a wizard. And that wasn't so bad, really. But then I corrected myself. To the Dursleys I had come to know, it would be a crime. They hated anything out of the ordinary. And Harry Potter was anything but normal. I watched Harry walk around his room, straightening things. He went over to the blanket, and picked it up. It proved to be a cover for his trunk. He walked over to his bed and kneeled on the floor, probing the wooden boards. I was about to ask what he thought he was doing, but then he grasped one floorboard and pulled it up easily. He then pulled out an assortment of books, parchment, quills, and other miscellaneous items. Harry dumped these things on his bed and walked over to the window. He gave a loud whistle and held his arm out. A few moments later, a pure white snowy owl landed on Harry's arm.  
  
"This is Hedwig," he said, motioning to the owl. She gave me a look, sizing me up, then fluttered over to my shoulder. I grinned gleefully at Harry and stroked the owl's feathers.  
  
"She likes you," said Harry absently, smiling at me. I nodded embarassedly and turned away toward the door. Well, that was weird, I thought uncomfortably. Hedwig flew off my arm and over to her perch.  
  
"Why don't you go get your stuff? We can compare notes," said Harry from behind me. I nodded and left the room. I returned carrying my trunk. I opened it up to display the contents. Harry gave it a wary look.  
  
"That's all?" he asked quietly, looking at me. I nodded and made an attempt to smile.  
  
"I'm doing this all by myself," I reminded him. He shook his head. He sat on his bed, thinking, and I resumed my place on the carpet. After a few moments, Harry spoke.  
  
"You're coming to Ron's with me," he declared, standing up. I scrambled to my feet and looked at him, bewildered.  
  
"And Ron is...?" I inquired. Harry grinned and started to answer when a tiny owl shot into the room and flew right into his head. It dropped onto the discarded blanket and was motionless. I started to laugh, but tactfully turned it into a coughing fit.  
  
"Are you all right?" I asked Harry, trying to be serious. He saw my face and narrowed his eyes.  
  
"It's not funny," he remarked, grinning. He rubbed his head. "Where did it go?"  
  
"Right here," I answered. I bent over and picked up the unconscious owl. There was a note stuck to its leg. "Poor thing. Knocked out cold." I examined it for anything broken, determined that it was fine and placed it gently on one of Harry's pillows.  
  
"It's Pig," he said. He took the note and glanced at me. Seeing my puzzled expression, he explained. "Ron's owl. He promised to send me one when our other friend Hermione set a date, for both of us to go to his house." He started reading the letter. I studied his face for a reaction, to see if it was a good or bad letter. His face fell.  
  
"We can't go to his house this year," he said sadly. "They're all going to Romania to visit his brother Charlie for the rest of the summer." He looked crestfallen. I stood up and put a comforting arm around his shoulder.  
  
"Guess we'll have to bear them together, huh?" I said solemnly. "You got my back, I got yours?" Harry nodded, smiling sadly. I frowned.  
  
"I'm gonna go to my room for a while," I announced to Harry, dragging my trunk into the hall. "I've got to come up with a plan," I said to myself.  
  
"A plan for what?" Harry asked, poking his head out the door. "What plan are we making?" I smiled, pleasantly surprised at the fact that he was in this with me.  
  
"For everything happening in the near future," I said, and flopped onto my bed.  
  
"Well, maybe I could help you," Harry said, appearing at the doorway. I grinned at him.  
  
"Sure, come on in. I could use all the help I can get," I said casually, but I knew it was way too close to the truth.  
  
"Let's see," I said thoughtfully. "First, I need to make a list of everything I need." I paused and walked over to the dresser and opened the top drawer, where Petunia or Vernon had thoughtfully (probably at the last minute) placed some stationary and writing utensils. I grabbed a pen and piece of paper, shut the drawer, and sat back down on the bed, propping my back against the wall.  
  
"Definitely some new robes," I said, taking notes. "And the books on that list I got in the Hogwarts letter." I paused again, taking this down. Harry watched me interestedly. I looked up at him.  
  
"You have a place to get all this stuff right?" I asked. He nodded.  
  
"Yeah, it's called Diagon Alley, in London," he said. He frowned, and I could see the wheels turning in his head, forming a plan. "If we could get Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon to take all of us to London, and somehow make them split off from us..." He trailed off, frowning. A lightbulb switched on above my head.  
  
"We could tell them that you're gonna show me around London!" I said excitedly. He grinned. "You, as a native Brit would show me, a tourist, the sights of the city," I added suavely. His smile widened.  
  
"You know, I think you're just a bit to good at coming up with things like that," he observed. I shrugged.  
  
"I've been lying to adults for years," I said, a bit boastfully. "Oh, all right, I confess, I do have to practice my lies ahead of time and know exactly what I'll say, but hey! I'm practically a professional," I added. Then I turned serious. "OK, how about this," I began, and we spent an hour perfecting our masterful plan.  
  
"What?" I asked suspiciously. Harry's smile had been getting wider with every step of the scheme.  
  
"Oh, I was just thinking," he began casually. I scowled. He put his hand up in front of him. "OK, OK! It's just, I was thinking, their only choice would be to drop us off, but they would hate it. They would worry that I was telling you horrible family secrets and they'd be thinking of it the whole day." He paused, as if visualizing his aunt and uncle in agony. "But they have to let us go. There is no choice for them. It's wonderful," he ended. He was beaming. I giggled at his expression, and he came out of his trance. He grinned wryly and shrugged. "You've seen it around here. They hate me, try to make it as miserable as possible for me. Very rarely do I get these moments of glory."  
  
I nodded in understanding. I had seen what went on in this household, and it wasn't pretty. 


	3. Chapter Three

I was pacing in the hallway upstairs, waiting for Petunia to call everyone to breakfast. I had been practicing my lines for the last three days, and I was sure Harry had done the same. I realized I was biting my nails, so I put my hands down and started wringing them instead. Harry came into the hall from his room.  
  
"Nervous?" he asked teasingly. But I saw a frown etched on his forehead. I shook my head.  
  
"Nope. Just worried," I replied. I chewed on my lips, running the plan through my head over and over again.  
  
"Breakfast!" came Petunia's shrill voice up the staircase. I took a deep breath and let it out through pursed lips. I glanced at Harry and raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Ready?" I asked. He nodded.  
  
"Ready as I'll ever be," he said and headed down the stairs.  
  
As I sat down in my seat at the table, I switched into acting mode. Or lying mode, which ever you prefer. I was completely calm, my feelings and emotions masked by my "game face". I smiled pleasantly at Vernon, who squirmed uncomfortably at my new disposition. I was usually stoic and bored, and when I talk I just muttered or mumbled a response to their small- talk questions. But today I was cheerful as a kindergarten teacher.  
  
"I hope you slept well, Mr. Dursley?" I said smoothly. The words rolled off my tongue naturally. Vernon gave his collar a short tug, and glanced at Petunia.  
  
"Er, yes, fine," he muttered. I turned to Petunia.  
  
"And you as well, Mrs. Dursley?" I inquired. She only nodded. I suppressed a giggle at the fact that I had apparently rendered her speechless. I stayed silent for a few moments, collecting myself. Then, "Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, I was meaning to talk to you about something of importance." They looked up eagerly, and I had to recover myself again before continuing. "Well, as you know, I'll be attending boarding school this year, and that my train leaves on the first of September." I leaned in as if this was some secret I was giving to them in confidence. "I realize that I am cutting it awfully short on time, waiting til the last minute to bring this up, but I was hoping that maybe you would be so kind as to drive me into London, so I can buy materials I need for school," I said, looking back and forth between Petunia and Vernon and batting my eyelashes prettily. They seemed to be having a silent conversation using only their eyes. Vernon turned to me, very business-like.  
  
"Well, Charlotte, I would be happy to drive you into London, but we simply have too much to do today. We don't have time to take you shopping," he finished. He looked at me sympathetically. I put on my best face of disappointment.  
  
"I'm sure whatever you could to would be much appreciated by my stepfather," I said, so sweetly I almost made myself sick. Vernon looked torn. He glanced at Petunia, who was looking very unsure. Now came Harry's turn.  
  
"I could show her around, if you like," he put in. Vernon and Petunia glared at him. Vernon opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off.  
  
"That would work out wonderfully!" I said, trying to sound as much like Sandra D as I possibly could. "You could just drop us off in London, and Harry could show me around!" I flashed the horrified Dursleys a dazzling smile, and tried to look delighted. "It would be the only possible way I could get all my things in time," I continued, pouting. This type of lying wasn't my 'specialty', and it was very difficult. "I'm sure my stepfather would be very glad," I said, confidently. I saw Vernon's shoulders slump with defeat and I knew we had won. I had to restrain myself from jumping in the air.  
  
"Yes, all right," he said tiredly. "If you get your things I'll drop you before I go to work." I walked calmly out of the room with Harry, but once I was out of sight, I bounded up the stairs with Harry at my heels. When I reached the top, I punch the air and did a victory dance.  
  
"Yeeessss!" I whispered fiercely, grinning at Harry. "That was awesome!" He nodded in agreement.  
  
"For a while there, I thought it wasn't going to work," he said, laughing. "But you were brilliant! I can tell you do this often," he added dryly. I smiled sweetly.  
  
"Actually I do," I said evilly, and went into my room to get ready.  
  
  
  
  
  
"We'll come back to this exact spot at 5 o'clock," Vernon reminded us for the hundredth time. "Don't be late." At that, Harry and I hopped out of the car and bounded down the sidewalk, away from his aunt and uncle and cousin. We stopped a block away from the place where we had been dropped off.  
  
"Phew!" I said, breathing heavily. "So, where are we going?"  
  
"Diagon Alley is this way, just the next block over. Let's go!" said Harry, and we started walking.  
  
"So, exactly what should I expect here?" I asked, giving Harry a sidelong glance. I had been around wizards at school, but I was pretty sure it would be different in England. He scratched his head thoughtfully.  
  
"Well, er, compared to what?" he asked, stalling. I nudged him slightly.  
  
"Compared to Muggles," I replied tartly. Harry squirmed uncomfortably.  
  
"Well, ah, they're a bit strange," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. I stopped walking and put my hands on my hips. He grinned apologetically.  
  
"It's hard to describe," he said, and shrugged. "You'll see when we get there."  
  
Harry led the way to the front of an old tavern, called the Leaky Cauldron. He pushed open the door and motioned for me to go in first. I nodded thanks and stepped through the door into a room full of strange people. The first thing I noticed was that everything was lit by candles. No electricity. Well, that was understandable. They didn't have electricity in the wizarding environments in the U.S. either. The second thing I noticed was that everyone was wearing colorful robes. Nothing strange there. I was used to seeing purple, turquoise, even crimson robes on adult wizards. It wasn't until I talked to them that I noticed what Harry was talking about.  
  
"Hey, Harry!" came a booming voice from across the room. I turned to see a humongous man in a bearskin coat walking toward us. Harry grinned happily when he saw him.  
  
"Hagrid!" he said, embracing him. "It's been too long." I shuffled my feet uncomfortably behind Harry. He glanced at me. "Oh, how rude of me! Hagrid, this is Charlotte Porter. She's from-"  
  
"The States, aye, Professor Dumbledore told me," Hagrid interrupted. He smiled at me warmly and shook my hand. "Please ter meet ye. Ye know, ye're the first transfer we've had at Hogwarts fer years."  
  
"Really?" I said interestedly.  
  
"Yeah," said Hagrid, but waved the subject away. "I just came down here ter have a drink and talk ter Tom. I s'pose you'll be here ter get yer school supplies?" Harry and I nodded. "Ah, well, I'll let ye get back to that. See ye both at school!" And with that, he was out the door. I turned to Harry and raised an eyebrow. He shrugged.  
  
"Let's go," he said. I followed him through the room, attracting curious glances. A few people stopped Harry to shake his hand. What was this? I thought confusedly. Why was Harry so popular here? I'd have to ask him later. Harry led me into an alley behind the Leaky Cauldron and stood in front of a brick wall, examining each brick carefully. I giggled, but turned it into a tactful coughing fit when Harry glared at me. I watched as Harry tapped three bricks and stepped back. I stared at the wall, where a small hole was growing and growing, until it was as big as a doorway. I gaped at Harry, who was chuckling. I gathered my wits enough to close my mouth and followed Harry into a world I could have never imagined. It looked like something out of a Disney movie. And just like inside the Leaky Cauldron, people kept coming up to Harry and shaking his hand. Harry turned to me.  
  
"So, where do you want to go first?" he asked nonchalantly.  
  
"The bank," I replied, still in awe of the so-called Diagon Alley. "I have money, but it's American dollars, and I need to change it to Galleons and Knuts and stuff." Harry nodded.  
  
"All right, then, let's head to Gringotts," he said and started off down the street. I studied the stores on each side of the street. They had the strangest names, like Flourish and Blotts, Ollivander's Wand Shop, and the bank we were going to, Gringotts. It was almost like a Dr. Seuss book. I giggled at the picture that entered my mind, of Harry asking me if I wanted to eat green eggs and ham with a mouse or in a house. Harry gave me a strange look and I started to answer, but waved him off. My strange thought process would be too hard to explain to anyone else.  
  
"Harry," I said, returning to my earlier thought of why everyone knew who he was. He gave me a questioning look. "Um, why did all those people want to shake your hand? I mean," I said with difficulty, "it's just that it seems like everyone knows you, and-" But he interrupted me.  
  
"Wait, you don't know who, er, he is?" Harry asked. I raised an eyebrow.  
  
"You're gonna have to be a bit more specific," I said sarcastically. He blushed, and waved his hand.  
  
"I'll explain later," he grumbled, kicking the ground.  
  
"Here we are," announced Harry a few minutes later. I looked up to find a huge building with Greek-style architecture that said 'Gringotts' on the front. We walked through the double doors and at first it looked like a normal, Muggle bank. Then I caught sight of the tellers, and almost laughed at my previous thought. They weren't human; they were short, about three feet tall, they had big pointy ears, and long beaky noses.  
  
"What are those?" I asked, my mouth curved into a quirky smile. I didn't want to be rude and seem like I was mocking these rather dignified looking creatures, but they were funny looking. Harry smiled.  
  
"They're goblins," he said. I watched in fascination as one of the little creatures scuttled past and took his seat at one of the windows. He looked at me questioningly. I stared for a moment, then shook myself.  
  
"May I help you?" he said in a croaky voice. I suppressed a smile and nodded.  
  
"Yes, I need to open an account and exchange American money," I replied, taking my wallet out of my pocket. He nodded and started writing quickly on an official looking piece of paper. He then handed it to me.  
  
"Sign please," he said, handing me a quill. I took it awkwardly, used to writing with ballpoint pens, and signed on the line. When I was done, the quill and paper were snatched from me, placed deftly in a file, and shoved into a cabinet. He looked at me and smiled.  
  
"Congratulations, you now have a vault at Gringotts bank," he said. He took a key out of a little pouch on his belt and disappeared under the desk. I heard a small click. He appeared once more and looked at me expectantly.  
  
"And how much would you like to transfer?" he asked professionally. I handed him a check, glancing at Harry. I didn't think he had much money and I didn't want to rub it in his face.  
  
"Three thousand dollars," announced the goblin, disappearing under his desk once more. I turned 13 different shades of red and avoided Harry's gaze, but I could feel him grinning. I took the key to my new bank account and the bank note, and stepped away from the counter so Harry could make his withdrawal. When he was done, the goblin called out in a strange language and pointed us toward yet another tiny creature.  
  
We rode these little cars through an assortment of tunnels and caves, passing humongous iron doors, until we reached our first destination. The little goblin hopped out of the cart and scuttled over to the door. Harry clambered out, a little less gracefully.  
  
"Vault 713," said the little man mechanically. "Key please." Harry handed him a small gold key, not unlike the one in my pocket. I leaned over my seat and squinted at what the goblin was doing. There was an assortment of locks in a circular space, but the goblin seemed to know which one was right. He pushed the key in, turned it, and the door swung open easily. Harry glanced back at me and I noticed he seemed a bit embarrassed. I craned my neck to see around him and almost gasped. There were piles and piles of gold, silver, and bronze coins, covering almost every space in the large vault. I slumped in my seat, completely confused. How did Harry have all that money? And if he was so rich, why did he live with his horrible aunt and uncle, and wear Dudleys' old clothes? I glanced back at Harry, who was rushing out of the vault, cheeks flaming. He took his seat beside me while the goblin closed the door. He looked at his feet, but I was staring straight ahead. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, the car began to move and we were speeding off toward my vault.  
  
"I think maybe you should explain now," I said quietly. At first I thought Harry hadn't heard me over the roar of the rusty cart wheels, but he nodded.  
  
  
  
**Please tell me what I should do to make this better. I have been getting lots of appreciative emails ("You're an excellent writer!" and such) but, not to sound ungrateful, I need more criticism. Just tell me what you don't like, or what could be better. (But by all means, keep the complements coming :P) 


	4. Chapter Four

**Muahahahahaha.....New chapter! Finally lol....I've been workin extra hard on the Spiderman one, forgot about ole' Harry! Well, here ya go then.......**  
  
"Well, it all started when I was about one year old," he began, spreading his hands out on his knees. "My parents were some of the best wizards in the world. Not to brag, or anything," he added, grinning embarassedly. I waved him on. "There was an evil wizard, he wanted to take over the world, you know, all sorts of things. He would torture Muggles and wizards alike. His name was 'Voldemort', though if you say the name around here, even now, they get sort of freaked out, so just refer to him as 'You-know-who' or 'He-who-must-not-be-named', all right?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at me. I frowned.  
  
"That's a little silly, don't you think?" I said. I had heard of 'Voldemort' from people at school, that he had killed a lot of wizards who refused to join his side. But, being raised in a Muggle environment, I hadn't been brought up to be afraid of 'He-who-must-not-be-named', so I didn't really understand what the big deal was. "I mean, I realize he must have been horrible, but could he be so bad that mentioning his NAME inspires terror in everyone?" Harry nodded.  
  
"Actually, it does," he replied, a note of warning in his voice. "Trust me. But on with the story. Vol-" he began, but paused, glancing at the goblin in the front seat. He continued. "You-know-who was going around, trying to get GOOD wizards to come over to his side." I realized suddenly where this was going. In the general direction of Harry's parents. He went on. "He asked my parents to join him." Bingo. "They said no. They were so honorable. They would never go over and do the things, the things he did-" Harry choked off at this, and I looked at him with empathy. Tears stung his eyes, and I wrapped what I hoped was a comforting arm around his shoulders. He shrugged it off as politely as he could and wiped his eyes. "They refused. I was a little younger than a year at that time, and we went into hiding. There was a special spell cast on the three of us. Even if Vol-, er, You-know-who, came right up to our window and looked in, he wouldn't be able to see us. But there was one person, a secret-keeper, held this secret, and if he told You-know-who, then the spell would be broken and he could see us again. Our secret-keeper was my godfather, Sirius." I jerked.  
  
"You have a GODFATHER?" I blurted incredulously. He nodded. "Then, why the hell do you stay with the Dursleys?" He put a hand up to stop me.  
  
"He's an outlaw," he said. I gaped at him, and he grinned maliciously. "Don't worry, he's not really guilty of what he's outlawed for. Anyway, Sirius gave up the position of secret-keeper for, erm, personal reasons," he said, glancing at me. I was still stuck on the shock that Harry had family beside the horrible Dursleys. I waved him on. "He gave the responsibility to another friend," he said, putting a bitter emphasis on the word 'friend'. "His name was Peter. But, to make a long story short, he turned out to be a close servant of You-know-who, and betrayed my parents to him. One night, Voldemort came to our house, and threatened to kill me if my they didn't go over to his side. They didn't join him, but my mum, she protected me, died for me. My dad tried to hold him off while she saved me. I guess he tried to kill me too, but for some reason, he failed. He lost all his power when he cast the spell, and I was left with this scar." He pulled up the long black bangs to show a scar shaped like a lightning bolt. I felt shivers go through my body. I stared at him.  
  
"You," I whispered, awed. "You were the boy who lived?" He nodded embarrassedly. "They talked about you at school," I said, grinning. "But they never said your name or anything. But they said you had a scar like that. That you defeated the most evil wizard. They said you've done it at least five times too. And that you were the best wizard in your school." He laughed at this.  
  
"Yeah, right," he said sarcastically. "I'm just Harry, regular old Harry. My grades are all right, but the best in school is definitely Hermione. And, ah, I've only done that four times," he said modestly. I stared at him, then started laughing. He grinned.  
  
"Only?" I wheezed, still laughing periodically. "Only three times? Oh jeez, Harry," I said, then went off in laughter again. 


	5. Chapter Five

**Ok, new chapter finally up.... some smart, keen-eyed observer (::wink::) has informed me that they have absolutely no idea what Charlotte looks like. ::smacks forehead:: dur hur, oops, guess i forgot that TINY detail.... i'm such a ditz like that sometimes.... apologies! sorry for not updating for so long, but this chap is really long, so.....enjoy.... :P**  
  
  
  
After visiting my new vault and withdrawing an assortment of coins, we headed out of the bank to do our actual shopping. Not quite over the shock of the Dr. Seuss-type characters walking around, I stared, almost to the point of rudeness. But I wasn't the only one staring. One old witch actually came up, plucked at my baseball-style t-shirt, and walked off muttering something about "young hooligans, turning over to the Muggle society." Harry leaned on a brick wall, laughing. I scowled, looking down at my clothes. I walked up beside him, looking at my reflection in a plate glass window of some shop.  
  
"What's wrong with it?" I said, mock-serious. I patted my dark chestnut brown hair pretentiously. I had put it into a flippy upside-down bun, front parted way over on the left side and swept across my forehead in an edgy Audrey Hepburn likeness. I had, as usual, eyes lined in black, lids covered in a dark brown-bronze color, but not much else. Eye make-up was customarily the only thing I wore. I was wearing my favorite shirt, three quarter black sleeves and collar, with white down to the hips. As my eyes traveled lower, I saw my second-favorite pair of jeans: six-month old, light blue, straight-legged Calvin Kleins, cuffed at the bottom. And basically the only shoes I ever wore, black and white Converse tennis. I wrinkled my nose at my reflection, crinkling the surprisingly dark blue eyes surrounded by black, and turned back to Harry. He was grinning at me, the image of the tiny bent old woman giving me fashion tips still in his head. Now, there was another person with startling looks. Jet-black hair, sticking up in all directions, with bright emerald green eyes peering out from the long bangs. He was also extremely tall, standing three inches taller than my own five foot eight. His clothes were baggy, and he was quite self-conscious about them, despite my efforts in trying to convince him that all the guys in America wore baggy clothes. He had told me all his clothes had once belonged to Dudley, making me lean even more toward the belief that the Dursleys were absolutely horrible people. He was wearing a large black t-shirt, baggy dark blue jeans, and some offbrand sneakers. The girls would have gone wild for this guy at home, I thought wryly. Harry clapped his hands together.  
  
"Well, what's first on your list?" he asked, walking over to me. I dug the piece of paper out of my pocket and inspected it. I stuffed it back in my pocket, making a face.  
  
"New robes," I said distastefully, glancing at Harry. "I know it'll be extremely boring, so if you want you can just show me the shop and go get some of your stuff." He shook his head.  
  
"No, I've got to get some too," he said, ducking his head. "Getting a bit drafty around the ankles, you know?" I giggled and waved my hand.  
  
"Lead the way, then," I said, and followed him down the cobbled street.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The tiny bell jingled merrily as we entered. Unlike I thought it would be from the drawn curtains, the clothing shop was cheerily lit and welcoming. The witch that bustled up to us was pleasantly plump, and helpful.  
  
"Ah, in need of some new school robes, are you?" she asked us kindly. Harry and I looked at each other, then nodded affirmatively. "Well, then, you've come to the right place, haven't you! Come with me, then," she said, then winked. I grinned at Harry and followed her to a separate room. There were two stools that I recognized to be standing platforms, and mirrors on all the walls. She pointed to the middle of the room. "Take your shoes off, each of you, and stand on those, please," she said, and waddled out again. I flipped off my shoes and wiggled my toes, covered by bright red socks with white stripes. Harry laughed and took off his as well, sitting down on the square platform. I sat on the opposite one and looked around. This room, too, was lit by tall lanterns with candles in them. I turned to Harry curiously.  
  
"They really don't have electricity here?" I asked, looking at him. "I mean, we didn't either, at school, but everywhere else..." I trailed off, and he nodded.  
  
"I know, it is kind of weird at first," he said, kicking at the floor. "I suppose it's because it's too magical around here. Not to say your people are any less than the English," he said hurredly. I grinned wryly. "But...I don't know. I couldn't imagine these people with all the modern technology in their lives. It's a bit like the old fashioned-ness is a part of them, you know?" I nodded.  
  
"It does seem like American witches and wizards have lost their spirit," I commented, probing my shoe with my big toe. I remembered the teenaged witches around the Block, our 'Diagon Alley', how they chattered away on cell phones just like it was the mall. I told Harry as much, and he looked scandalized.  
  
"If you tried to talk on a phone while even walking past the outside of the Leaky Cauldron, it would go haywire," he said disapprovingly. I shrugged.  
  
"I like it better here," I said quietly. "It's more quiet, and the people are more genuine. Everything in America is fake, or processed. It's no fun," I added. Harry started to answer, but the old witch was back, black cloth draped over her left arm and a big sewing basket in her right. She set all this down on a table in the corner and smiled.  
  
"All right, up on the stools," she said, clapping her hands. We complied quickly and she started measuring us with deft hands. After she was done, she wrote the numbers on a sheet of parchment. She took this and excused herself once more. Harry cleared his throat.  
  
"So, ah, you've seen my family," he said, making conversation. "Tell me what yours is like." I wrinkled my nose.  
  
"Well, I never knew my dad," I began. Harry made a sympathetic sound. "He died before I was born. And my mom died when I was about four, so I don't really remember her. I've lived with my stepfather since then. I don't know why my mom married him. He's nice, I guess, but completely distant. He treats me as though he would a pet. He gives me money to buy clothes and school things, and thinks that's all I need. I've never gone wanting, in the way of material things," I corrected myself. "But, I've never really gotten close to anyone. You're probably the closest friend I've ever had, in fact," I told him. I shot a sidelong glance at him, hoping I didn't seem like a snobby rich kid. He nodded understandingly.  
  
"I do have money," he said bluntly. "But, well, you saw the family. Never a kind word from Petunia, Vernon, or Dudley Dursley." So, he was in the same position I was. Not quite. "If it weren't for my two friends, and Sirius, I'd not be able to handle it." I looked at the floor, and there was an awkward silence. "So! tell me about your school, in, Massachusetts, was it?" he said, changing the subject. I was grateful, and proceeded to tell him all about it.  
  
  
  
  
  
Newly purchased black robes for school, wrapped up in brown paper parcels, were tucked firmly under our arms as we continued down Diagon Alley.  
  
"What next?" asked Harry methodically. I pulled the list out of my pocket briefly, then pushed it back in with my index finger.  
  
"Books, writing stuff, you know, paper, quills, and stuff, and I thought maybe I could get a pet," I told him, trying not to let the excitement into my voice. "And, you know, I thought we'd just look around." He nodded.  
  
"Right, let's see," he said thoughtfully. "The book store is right over there, and Flourish and Blotts, that's the place to get writing things, is two stores down. And there's a pet store right across from that Quidditch shop." Harry turned to me suddenly. "Do you play Quidditch at all?" he asked, an odd gleam in his eye. I shook my head, and his face fell slightly.  
  
"I've never really watched a game, or picked up a broomstick, or played it," I replied, and he seemed to cheer up at that. He winked at me.  
  
"I'll teach you about it, when we get to school," he said seriously. I nodded, grinning at him. "My friends, my godfather, and Quidditch, have helped me survive the Dursleys," he said, and I laughed.  
  
"Come on, clown," I said jokingly. "We can goof around after the serious work is done." He led me down the street to a bookstore with piles and piles of books on display in the window. I walked in and was greeted by the smell of paper. A rather hassled-looking man stood behind the counter, and walked, irritated, over to us.  
  
"School books?" he asked bluntly. We nodded, afraid to cross him anymore than he already was. "What year," he said gruffly.  
  
"Fifth," Harry and I said in unison. He disappeared into a back room and reappeared with two piles of books. He dropped them rather carelessly on the counter, and punched a few numbers into the old cash register. Harry stepped up boldly to the counter, his moneybag clenched tightly in his hand.  
  
"Eight galleons and four sickles, each, please," said the cashier, speaking a bit more kindly than before. Harry and I quickly counted out the amount and gave it to the man. He gave us a tiny smile and wrapped up the books with lightning speed. I flashed him a toothy grin, hoping to encourage him. He smiled back.  
  
"Have a nice day," said Harry, grinning too. The man tipped his head slightly.  
  
"You too," he said, obviously in a much better mood than before. "And have a fun time at school." We said good-bye and left.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry and I walked more slowly across the street. Our purchases were beginning to get heavy. We hobbled into the store called Flourish and Blotts and set it all gratefully on a table next to the door. An old, kind- looking man looked up when we came in, and smiled.  
  
"Here for school supplies?" he asked, raising a furry white eyebrow. I smiled charmingly.  
  
"How does everyone know that?" I asked jokingly. The old man gave me a smile, showing teeth in surprisingly good condition.  
  
"Ah, just a feeling," he replied, winking at me. "One moment, I'll get the year's supply deal, for each of you." He disappeared through a door. I looked around the tiny shop. There were posters up on the wall, showing the type of strokes each style of quill made, and different colored inks. The old man returned, carrying two already wrapped packages of presumably a school year's supply parchment, quills, and ink. Harry and I each paid for it, and were out the door within five minutes.  
  
"Why are you so nice to people?" he asked suddenly, as we walked toward the pet store. I started at the unexpected inquiry. "I mean, you don't have to be so, I don't know, cheerful, but you are. You try to make those people feel special, and you don't even know them," he said, looking curiously at me. I blushed.  
  
"Oh! well, I, um, I don't know," I sputtered. "I hadn't really thought about it before," I said, faintly surprised. I thought of the man in the bookstore. "The guy wasn't looking too happy, so I smiled at him. I just figured it would make him feel better," I ended lamely, not knowing how to explain. "It just seemed like the nice thing to do." The subject was dropped and we were silent until we reached Eyelops Owl Emporium. Harry held the door open gentlemanly; I ducked my head in thanks and entered the store. Upon doing so, my nose was greeted by a number of different scents, most of them of the less pleasant aspects of the animals' anatomies.  
  
I nodded politely at the black-haired, greasy-looking witch at the counter and proceeded to browse through all the interesting pets. There were a variety of things that I had never seen before, most of them looking a bit dangerous, but I made a beeline for the owl section. There were all sorts of species: barn owls, eagle owls, even tiny owls that could fit in the palm of your hand. I was particularly drawn to a dark one in the corner. It was a deep sooty black, speckled white like pepper around its beak and eyes, and some on its stomach, but everything else was black. I glided up to the cage, eyes locked with the honey-colored ones. I tore my eyes away from the gorgeous bird and forced myself to look at the price tag. Sooty Owl, Male, 75 Galleons, it sparkled tauntingly at me. My jaw dropped. I dug through my change purse, heart sinking. I came up with 74 galleons, 7 sickles, and 3 knuts. Not enough, I thought sorrowfully. I had never before taken advantage of my stepfather's wealth. In fact, I had shied away from it, trying not to spend money that I didn't need to. This was the first thing I could remember that I wanted bad enough to spend his "tainted" money on. I put my hand up to the brass cage and smiled sadly at the somber eyes.  
  
"Sorry, bud," I whispered. I let my hand fall, feeling defeated. Suddenly, Harry came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder, and I jumped. He shoved five shiny gold galleons into my hand and grinned at me. I stared from his face, to the cold coins pressed into my hands, and back to him again. The green eyes sparkled kindly at me. I felt tears well up and started to say something, but he stopped me.  
  
"You've been the ideal friend this past summer," he said, holding my hand firmly to keep the money from falling out of it. "And it's the least I could do." I tried to argue, but he interrupted again. "Just get me a good Christmas present, hey?" I stared for a few more moments, then tightened my fingers around the cool metals. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed whole-heartedly.  
  
"Thank you," I whispered.  
  
"You are welcome," came his muffled voice. He chuckled. "As nice as this hug is, you're kind of choking me...?" I let go and laughed shakily, facing him. He was still smiling. "Well?" he said jokingly. "Are you going to buy this guy or not?" I nodded and he followed me up to the cash register.  
  
"I'd like to buy that owl, right there, please," I told the old hag. She hauled herself off of the stool behind the counter, groaning, and started to hobble over to the owl section. I saw that it was a very labored process, and stopped her.  
  
"I'm sorry, I didn't see that you were, - well, ah, I'll just bring it up to the register, won't I?" I ended, returning the grateful smile. I bounded over to the owl about to belong to me and removed it from the brass rack. I carried it carefully back to the hag and set it on the counter. She tapped a few keys on an ancient cash register and it crashed open.  
  
"You'll want something to keep the beak sharpened, I think?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. I nodded happily. She pointed to a shelf full of them and I chose one in the shape of Elvis's head. "You can feed him table scraps, you know, so there's no need to buy extra food." I nodded and flopped the chunk of wood down on the counter. She rang up the items.  
  
"78 galleons and 5 sickles, please," said the witch with a smile, showing the absence of more than a few important teeth. I smiled back and dumped the money into her hands. I dropped the extra back into Harry's hands and he shoved the coins chinking into his baggy pocket. She handed me the piece of wood.  
  
"Would you like to put it in?" she asked. I nodded again and took the Elvis sharpener. I opened the cage slowly, eyes locked with the owl's. I put my hand by itself in first. I saw the feathers stiffen and paused, making a soothing noise. My hand finally reached the shiny softness and I stroked his back gleefully. He ruffled his feathers blissfully and made a cooing sound. I took my hand out, grabbed the chunk of wood, and stuck it on one of the bars. I gave him one last pat and closed the cage again. I watched for a few moments as he poked curiously at the intrusion, then bit it comfortably. I grinned at Harry, positively glowing, and threw my arms around him once more.  
  
"Thank you so much!" I said, squeaking a little. He laughed and disentangled himself from my grasp.  
  
"Come on, let's go celebrate," he said, gathering up his stuff once more. I did the same, struggling with the bulk of the cage. Seeing me struggle in trying to gather up the last two of my bags, he came over and picked them up. I moved to take them from him, but he held them away. I made a face.  
  
"You've already helped me tons already," I argued. "No more helping!" He grinned and shook his head.  
  
"Just go," he ordered. I obeyed, trudging out onto the sidewalk. I let him catch up and he led us to an ice cream shop with an outdoor patio. I followed him through the gate and set the cage and bags down, panting. I sank into a chair and fanned myself emphatically. Harry raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I'll just go order us some milkshakes, shall I?" he said. I knew he was waiting for me to protest, and I fell for it. I opened my mouth to say something but he interrupted me. I tried again.  
  
"But-," I tried again.  
  
"No," he said. I gave an agitated sigh, but had to hide a smile. What is this, an Austin Powers movie? I thought amusedly. He turned around abruptly and marched through the doorway. Mule, I told him in my mind. He just had to win, didn't he? I closed my eyes and enjoyed the small breeze playing across my face. I opened them again to the sound of my new pet poking at the bars. He looked at me somberly.  
  
"Hey, dude, are you hungry?" I asked, leaning forward slightly. As though he understood me, he cocked his head to one side, almost teasingly. I grinned and started to say something, but Harry was back. He set an enormous mug on the table, and I raised an eyebrow. He grinned.  
  
"Oh, chocolate," he said. "Most definitely chocolate." I shrugged and took a big swig through the provided straw. Cold, creamy chocolate ice cream filled my mouth, and I closed my eyes in bliss.  
  
"Mmm," I said through the mouthful. "Ish gud." Harry snickered and I opened my eyes. He took a gulp of his own and sat down. We both were silent for a while, enjoying the rare sunny day and listening to each other slurp.  
  
"Harry!" someone yelled loudly behind me. I jumped, spilling some of my shake on the table. Harry snorted, but quieted at my glare. He peered around me and his face lit up. He stood up abruptly, almost knocking over his own drink, and practically leaped over the small gate surrounding the patio. I turned around to see a small crowd of redheaded people, accompanied by a pretty girl with bushy brown hair. Harry took turns hugging everyone, then remembered me and turned around. He waved emphatically at me, face glowing. I grinned at stood up, preparing myself to meet my first real British wizards. 


	6. Chapter Six

**Wow, this is a long entry....six pages on Word Perfect...enjoy! **  
  
  
  
"Charlotte...?" said the brown-haired girl. I nodded, smiling uncertainly.  
  
"And, Harry told me about you, but...I'm sorry, I don't remember how to say your name," I said apologetically. She giggled.  
  
"Oh, it's Hermione," she replied. She stuck out her hand awkwardly, and I shook it.  
  
"Nice to meet you, Her-my-uh-knee," I said cautiously. She tipped her head slightly and I relaxed. I had enough trouble introducing myself to people without mispronouncing names. Our handshake was broken off suddenly by two of the redheads, tall but slightly stocky. I looked at both of their faces and realized with a shock that they were twins.  
  
"Jolly good meeting you, young fair American," said one, grabbing my hand. He yanked it up and down enthusiastically. I blinked stupidly.  
  
"How did you-?" I started to ask. The other one butted in, taking a turn.  
  
"Oh, Harry's told Ron all about you," he said knowledgeably. I raised an eyebrow.  
  
"And what does that have to do with you two?" I said, trying to talk to both of them at once, extremely difficult due to that fact that one was still avidly shaking my hand, and the other was now thumping me on the back.  
  
"Oh, we're one big happy family, you know," said the one repeatedly thwacking my shoulder. "We know everything about each other. Don't worry, Harry and Hermione know this, they've been adopted by us. You will be too, once Mum meets you," he added, finally realizing that my back was not a bongo drum. The other one stopped shaking my hand too, and I rubbed it tenderly.  
  
"Well, anyway, I'm Fred," said the one who had been 'patting' me on the back.  
  
"And I'm George," said the other one. I grinned cautiously, not wanting to encourage them to do any more bodily greeting.  
  
"I'm Charlie," I said, rolling from my heels to the balls of my feet. George frowned.  
  
"Charlie?" he said. He scratched his head stupidly, and I realized it was another act. "That's not a name for a girl, is it? I mean, it's my brother's name...I thought-"  
  
"Don't be thick, George," said Fred, thwapping him on the back of the head. George rubbed the spot comically. "Short for Charlotte, 'tisn't it?" Fred raised his eyebrows pompously at me.  
  
"Indeed, 'tis," I managed to say with a straight face. I noticed the rest of the family was hovering in the background, waiting for Fred and George to end their two-man introduction. Apparently, they saw it too, because they both turned to me, bowed gentlemanly, and stumbled off inside the ice cream parlor. I watched after them, then shook my head, stifling a smile. I turned to everyone else. A middle-aged woman, with red hair of course, stepped forward, smiling widely.  
  
"I'm Molly Weasley, dear," she said kindly. We shook hands lightly.  
  
"Charlotte Porter," I replied. A tall, thin redheaded man stepped forward.  
  
"I'm Arthur Weasley," he said. It sounded as though he were bursting to ask me something, but held himself in check. I shook his hand.  
  
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Weasley," I said, trying to look open so that he wouldn't be uncomfortable asking anything. He ducked his head, though, and stepped back. Another redhead stepped forward. He looked to be the youngest of the boys, though just as tall and freckly. A light flickered on over my head.  
  
"You must be Ron!" I said excitedly. His ears turned red. I shook his hand. "Harry's told me a lot about you."  
  
"He's said a lot about you, too," he admitted, grinning. I grinned back, and turned to Harry.  
  
"That's not all of them, is it?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips. Harry snickered.  
  
"Of course not," he said in a deeper than usual voice.  
  
"Good," I said, clapping my hands together. "I've got a few good handshakes left in me, wouldn't want to waste them." Another boy stepped forward. Or, well, man, I corrected myself. He looked to be around eighteen or nineteen years old.  
  
"Percy Weasley," he said, shaking my hand briskly. "Pleasure to meet you, just a pleasure. Ron's told us about you. How is it in the good old States?"  
  
"Er, ah," I stuttered, taken aback by this guy's attitude. It was like meeting the mayor. "It's great," I said firmly. He started to ask another question, which I had an odd feeling was about the weather, when he was yanked aside by Fred and George, who had returned each with an ice cream cone in hand.  
  
"C'mon Perce," said George. "Leave her alone. She's got to meet Ginny yet." At this a small girl stepped forward from the shadows of her brothers. She smiled nervously. I thought she couldn't be more than thirteen or fourteen years old.  
  
"Hi, I'm Ginny," she said in a determined voice. I smiled.  
  
"Charlie," I said warmly. I remembered back in the day when I had been shy and meek. I honestly couldn't help it, not talking, not making eye contact. It seemed as though finding out I was a witch, and learning magic, had boosted my confidence, like I had a protective barrier around me and no matter what I said, I couldn't be hurt, emotionally or physically. I turned my body so that I was standing next to Ginny, looking Ron, Percy, Fred, and George.  
  
"These guys are all your brothers?" I asked her. "You have no sisters?" She nodded, a smile growing on her face.  
  
"Yeah, and two of them aren't here," she said, becoming more talkative. I raised my eyebrows as high as they could go.  
  
"Hmm, that makes it..." I counted out the girls in our party. Including Mrs. Weasley, there were, "four of us?" My eyes widened melodramatically, and everyone grinned. "We'll just have to stick together, not let them get the best of us," I told Ginny. She giggled.  
  
"What time is it?" asked Harry suddenly. My eyebrows raised.  
  
"Come on, Harry," I said. "It's not time to go already..." I drifted off as Mr. Weasley checked his watch.  
  
"Three forty-five," he replied, looking at us inquiringly. Harry and I both jumped.  
  
"Holy cow!" I said incredulously. Fred snorted and Ginny giggled. I flashed them a goofy grin. "Just an American saying. But we've got to meet Harry's uncle in a half hour, we better be off," I said, glancing at Harry. He nodded.  
  
"Yeah, we've got to go," he told them. We gathered our things and set off, waving underneath our packages.  
  
"See you in two days!" Ron shouted after us. It took me a moment to register what he had said.  
  
"Two days," I thought. "This summer had gone by so fast."  
  
"Yeah," said Harry. I jumped, almost dropping my things, when I realized I had spoken out loud. We went back to Gringotts and both withdrawled a significant amount of money to get us through the school year. I tried to pay Harry back, but he would have none of it. We finally reached the brick wall leading to Muggle London, with a half hour to spare. I followed him through the back entrance of the Leaky cauldron and to a table in the corner, ignoring the curious glances of regular patrons. The old wizard I had seen earlier, Tom, came up to the table.  
  
"Having anything today, young ones?" he asked, giving us a big gap-toothed grin. As if on cue, my stomach gave a huge grumble. I snorted.  
  
"Er, I'll have a, a....meat pie, is it?" I squinted at the menu, which was done in curly cue writing, barely legible. "Chicken, please. And what sort of drinks?" Tom thought for a moment.  
  
"I've got some lovely iced tea," he said helpfully. He gave me a worried look. "I'm not sure what you like to drink in America." I smiled.  
  
"Iced tea would be wonderful," I told him. "And I'm Charlotte Porter, by the way." Tom smiled at me. I glanced at Harry, who gave me a huge grin. I knew exactly what he was thinking. There you go again, Charlie.  
  
"And for you, Mr. Potter?" he inquired.  
  
"Make that two chicken pies, please," Harry told him. "And a water." Tom ducked his head politely and went off to fill our orders. There was a tiny squawk from under the table and I started. I put a hand over my heart.  
  
"Jeez," I breathed. "That scared me. Are you hungry dude?" I directed my attention to my new owl. The owl cocked his head at me, as though to say Well, what d'you think, smart one? I smiled at him. "Wait til Tom gets back, I'll give ya a meat pasty thing."  
  
"What're you going to name him?" Harry asked. I turned to face him.  
  
"I dunno," I said thoughtfully. I stared absently into the owl's cage. My eyes focused suddenly on the piece of wood shaped like...  
  
"ELVIS!" I said loudly. A few people jumped, a few turned around and stared. I slouched in my seat, face flaming, as Harry died of laughter on the floor. He sat up, still snorting, and looked at me amusedly.  
  
"That's his name," I said indignantly. My color was receding, and the lighting was low, but I was sure Harry could still see it. He nodded, taking a deep breath shaky from laughing.  
  
"My ribs hurt," he remarked, rubbing them. I snorted and bent over to talk to Elvis.  
  
"Is that alright with you?" I asked him. He looked quizzical, as though he could understand me but had missed the last conversation. "Elvis? That's your name, ok?" He did a half shrug, like I could call him whatever I wanted, he didn't care, thank you. I exchanged grins with Harry. Just then, Tom brought our meals, steaming and glass mugs of light brown liquid. I sipped this cautiously and closed my eyes in bliss. Unlike most of the iced teas found in U.S. restaurant soda fountains, it was as the flavor itself was sweetened, not a separate sugary thing.  
  
"Perfect," I breathed. Harry smiled and pushed a plate toward me. I examined the pie closely. It seemed to be a normal, universal chicken potpie. I cut a slice into little pieces and placed them carefully in Elvis' food tray. I watched him closely as he poked the warm meat cautiously, then sighed with relief as he snapped up a piece and swallowed it whole. I turned to my own plate, stuck my fork in it, and took a bite. It was delicious.  
  
"Whoever said England had bland food never came to the Leaky Cauldron," I told my pie pointedly. I polished it off in five bites, and gulped down the last of my tea the same time Harry did. We put some money on the table and gathered our things once more. As we exited the tavern, I was suddenly aware of Elvis and his cage.  
  
"Oh, no," I said, slowing down. Harry retraced his steps and stood beside me.  
  
"What?" he asked, puffing slightly.  
  
"How am I going to explain Elvis to your aunt and uncle?" I said, starting to panic. "We'll be at the car any minute, and they know you have and owl, and that you're a wizard, and-" I wasn't making sense, and Harry stopped me.  
  
"How about you let him go?" he suggested. I looked at him skeptically, forgetting my panic for a moment. "I mean, he's an owl, and obviously a very smart one," I grinned, "so he'll be able to find you. It's just one of those magic things, witches and wizards have connections with their owls," he said hastily. He hitched his things up and got a better grip. "C'mon, let's go."  
  
"Wait a sec," I told him annoyedly. I bent down, unlatched Elvis' cage, trying not to drop anything. The black owl climbed out warily and stuck his neck out, surveying the area. Suddenly he started flapping his wings and shot into the air. I felt a tiny wave of panic wash over me, but stuffed it down firmly. This was what an owl was for, wasn't it?  
  
Elvis perched himself on a flagpole and looked out on the street, chest puffed out. I smiled cautiously. He flew off the pole and swept down, landing on my shoulder. I winced slightly at the talons in my arm, but reached up through the pain and pet him.  
  
"Can you really find me at home, bud?" I asked him worredly. He gave me a pompous look. What exactly is that supposed to mean? Do you really think I am capable of less than any other owl? How dare you suggest such a thing!  
  
Indignantly, he hop-flew off my shoulder and perched on his cage. I scratched his head and he made a forgiving sound, looking up at me with amber eyes. I smiled.  
  
"Okay, off with you," I told him. I made a shooing motion and, with one last look, he soared into the sky. I watched him until he was a tiny dot, then until I couldn't see him anymore. With a sigh, I turned with Harry and started to walk to the meeting spot.  
  
"He'll be fine you know," said Harry, seeing me look at the sky for the hundredth time. "He's a smart owl. I can tell, you and Elvis have the same thing as Hedwig and I. It's one of those great bonuses of being a wizard. Or witch," he added fairly. "I mean, I can almost talk to Hedwig, I know what she's thinking, and she knows what I'm thinking. It's wonderful. Here, let me take the cage, I'll pretend it's mine so they aren't suspicious of you." I smiled and absorbed myself in my thoughts until we reached the meeting place, where Vernon Dursley was waiting with an extremely worried look on his face.  
  
"How was London?" he asked cautiously. I smiled placidly.  
  
"It was great," I told him. "Thank you very much for letting us go. I've got all my things for school. The train leaves in two days for...for, Bath." Mentally, I thwacked myself upside the head. Great, Char, I told myself. Just great. The great village of Bath, that's where a rich guy would send his daughter. Vernon didn't seem to notice though. He only looked relieved to have me out of the house.  
  
"Yes, well, that's lovely," he said absently. His comments turned to Harry, and his tone changed. "What about you, boy? When do you leave?" he demanded.  
  
"Same day," he muttered, looking at his feet. Vernon chortled.  
  
"Well, that'll be easy then," he remarked. There was a silence, then he turned the radio on. It was some station that played old songs from the 40's.  
  
"Chattanooga choo choooooooo," it sang, crackling slightly. I was silent for the rest of the ride, watching things go by faster than I could focus on them. I remembered feeling this way when I found out I was a witch. I was swept off to school, learned twice as many things as I ever had in Muggle school, and now I was in England. It was crazy. We got home a half hour later. I gathered all my things, refusing to let Vernon help me. What if he dropped something, and out tumbled Standard Book of Spells: Fifth Edition? That would be a bit harder to lie about. I barely made it to my guest room before dropping everything in the middle of the floor. I heard a similar clunk from across the hall, and Harry appeared at my doorway.  
  
"Aunt Petunia says dinner'll be ready in fifteen minutes," he said. I motioned him to come in. He did so, closing the door behind him, and placed Elvis' cage on my dresser near the window. He grinned at me. "Better open your window." I looked at him quizzically, but did so. I felt a breeze and shrieked with surprise.  
  
"Elvis!" I said happily. Perched on his cage, he leaned over and nuzzled me lovingly. "Stop, ya big flirt," I told him, smiling. "I'll bring you some scraps after dinner, ok?" He cocked his head, a gesture I was becoming familiar with as the one he used to say yes. I grinned.  
  
"I'm going to go put my things away," said Harry. I nodded.  
  
"I should prolly do that to," I said, sighing. With a motion of farewell, Harry was gone. I took a deep breath and started to pack for Hogwarts. 


	7. Chapter Seven

**Crikey, eight pages on Word! Okay, okay, I think I deserve a pat on the back here...I am stopping the BS, and finally getting to Hogwarts.....aren't you just all tingly and excited inside? Well, here ya go....and some of you (not mentioning any names ::grin and wink::) ask if Charlie will be having a bad relationship with anyone? I am getting to that.....muahahaha....**  
  
  
  
"Charlotte! Harry! Get down here!" Petunia's shrill voice echoed up the stairwell. I shoved my moneybag into my pocket with nervous fingers. Today was the day. September the First. The Hogwarts Express left at 1:45, in a half hour. "HURRY UP!" I yanked my trunk, now almost filled with magical necessities, into the hall, smacking my head on the doorframe.  
  
"Ouch!" I said, sitting hard on my backside. I heard a muffled laugh behind me, and turned crossly to see Harry dragging his trunk down the stairs. He grinned at me, and I could help grinning back. Who wouldn't be in a good mood leaving Privet Drive? I pulled my trunk across the floor behind Harry. When we reached the bottom, Petunia's puckered face appeared hovering over us.  
  
"About time," she said, nostrils pinched. "You'll be late. Take your things to the driveway, you'll have to wait until you get to school to eat lunch." Well, gee golly, that sounded just horrible, I thought to myself. Petunia disappeared into the kitchen at the sound of Dudley's calling, and I said something extremely crude under my breath, causing Harry to drop his trunk in shock. I smiled beatifically and dragged my trunk out the door in front of me. When I reached the car, Vernon hoisted it into the car, followed closely in suit by Harry's. We were ushered into the car, and I spent the twenty minute ride clinging to the door for dear life. Vernon thought it necessary to floor it in order to get me to my train on time. When we reached King's Cross, I tumbled out of the car and sat on the curb, head between my knees. I felt a hand on my back.  
  
"Are you okay?" whispered Harry, with a quick glance at Vernon, who was dumping out trunks on carts. I nodded, taking a deep breath. I stood up, saw stars for a moment, but was fine. I walked over to the cart.  
  
"It's been a lovely summer," said Vernon genially. I grimaced, but he took it for a smile of agreement, and grasped my hand in a farewell shake. "Shall I see you off?"  
  
"No," I said, maybe too quickly. "I mean," I amended, "I've really got to go. Thank you for having me, and for the rides to London and the station. My stepfather is grateful," I added, forcing out a compliment. He was beaming. "Bye, then."  
  
"Until next summer boy," he snarled at Harry. Harry looked back stonily.  
  
"I might be able to go to a friend's house," he said, nostrils pinched.  
  
"All for the best then," replied Vernon. I rolled my eyes and started to move away. I heard Harry's cart squeaking along behind me. I took out my ticket from my pocket and squinted at it.  
  
"Is this some kind of joke?" I asked Harry. I looked up. Platform 9, Platform 10. The ticket said 9 and 3/4. I raised an eyebrow at Harry. He grinned and looked around. His face brightened.  
  
"Harry!" came a voice. I looked in that direction and grinned. It was Ron. "Charlie!" I waved. He trotted up to us. "C'mon, the train's leaving in five minutes," he said. "Hermione got a compartment for us all. Let's go." I turned as he headed straight for the wall. I was prepared to bust up laughing when he walked into it, but he never did. I blinked, and he was gone. I felt my eyes widen, and heard Harry snickering next to me. I glowered at him.  
  
"Just walk right towards the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10," he told me. It was as though he was reciting something. I raised an eyebrow skeptically.  
  
"Okay," I said reluctantly. I got into the position to walk straight toward it. "But if I crash into it, you're gonna hear-," I warned. He waved his hand at me.  
  
"Just go," he said, grinning. I sighed and started pushing my cart toward the wall. A few feet away, I closed my eyes. My pace quickened. Suddenly, I was greeted by the normal sounds of a steam engine. I opened my eyes to a scarlet train. Hogwarts Express, read gold letters on the front. There were tons of people mulling around with carts, luggage, and owls, most between the ages of twelve and sixteen. I felt a small bump against my backside and turned to look. It was just Harry, with that stupid grin on his face. I smiled, not without sarcasm, and pushed my cart forward. A man in robes came up to us.  
  
"May I take your luggage, young ones?" he asked kindly. I nodded, smiling at him.  
  
"Yes thanks," I said. He hoisted our trunks up as though they weighed nothing, and disappeared into the crowd. Ron appeared at my side.  
  
"This way, young ones," he said, mimicking. I punched him on the arm and he laughed, leading us onto the train. I looked around, taking everything in. There were students chattering in every compartment, some already wearing their Hogwarts robes. I followed Ron down the train, looking all around, until he stopped and I ran into him.  
  
"Oof," I breathed. I backed up. "What? Why are you-"  
  
"Ah, Weasley," came a cold voice in front of him. I noticed Ron's whole form had gone rigid. His hands were clenched. "I knew I smelled you a few cars away." I raised an eyebrow. Quite a greeting, that was.  
  
"Well, Malfoy," said Ron. His voice had taken on an odd tone, one that didn't suit his laid-back personality. "I highly doubt that I was the cause of the smell. I mean, the last time I saw you with your mother, she had the worst look on her face. It must be you then, eh?" He laughed, completely without humor. I tried to peek around him, but he was too tall. I turned around.  
  
"What's going on?" I mouthed to Harry.  
  
"I can't tell you now," he whispered. "Too long of a story."  
  
"Who's that behind you Weasley?" said the voice of Malfoy. "I swear, you'll be as big as your mum some day. But Potter's talking to someone. Besides himself," he added as an obvious afterthought. Ron started to reply, but I had had just about enough of this. I shoved my way around him to face a pale, blonde guy around our age. He was taller than I was, but not than Harry or Ron. Pretty ballsy of him to confront two guys bigger than he was, I thought at first, but then noticed the two apes accompanying him in the shadows. I stuck out a hand, though I wasn't feeling too friendly at the moment.  
  
"Charlotte Porter," I said. He stared at my hand until I reached forward disgustedly and shook his. "And you are?" He gaped at me for a moment, then shook his head slightly. He seemed to regain that obnoxious air he had taken with Ron.  
  
"Draco Malfoy," he said. I let go of his hand, resisting the urge to wipe my own on my jeans, though there wasn't anything on it. I did not like this guy at all, and he had only said his name to me. No one had ever struck me as so mean before. He smiled sourly at me.  
  
"I can see already that you've fallen into the wrong crowd," he said, lifting an eyebrow. He looked me up and down, making me extremely uncomfortable. "A pity." I ran my tongue along the inside of my cheek.  
  
"Fallen?" I said shrewdly. "I know I'm clumsy, but I'd like to think I'm so graceful as to be able to CHOOSE my own crowd, thank you." I heard Ron snicker, and I stepped on his foot. He stopped. I didn't need back up, not yet. I crossed my arms.  
  
"What exactly is a pity?" I asked him. He started to answer, but I interrupted him. "Me being friends with Harry and Ron? That's a pity? I find it rather fun, actually. But then, you obviously wouldn't know what it's like to have friends like these, since all you've got is gargoyle there." I motioned toward the two bodyguards, who were beginning to make low guttural noises. I bit my tongue. He hadn't really done anything to me, but something about this guy was getting under my skin.  
  
"American, are you?" he said, changing the subject. I cast him an annoyed look. "My father was telling me about you. Americans aren't very good wizards, I've heard. Does it take you longer to learn things?" He looked at me as though I were stupid, and I had to muffle the urge to laugh in his face. I realized he was taking out his wand. I straightened my arm out and out flew my own wand, Cherrywood 7 1/2 inches unicorn hair, from its hiding place in my sleeve.  
  
"Do you really want to find out?" I asked. I must have looked quite dangerous, because his eyes flickered for a moment.  
  
"Charlie?" came Ron's voice. I jumped. I felt the anger that had been building up float away, like the smoke from a candle flame blown out. I blinked a few times, then shoved my wand back into its place in my sweater. Malfoy and his goons stepped aside into a compartment doorway. I shoved my long hair behind my ears. Malfoy made a noise, and I glared at him. He remained silent, cold blue gaze not leaving my face. He seemed to be staring at the side of my head. His eyes had transformed slightly, filled with malice. I turned again and continued down the car.  
  
"Seregaur," he muttered. I whipped around, the color leaving my face, my nostrils pinched.  
  
"What did you just say," I said. I barely controlled myself, my voice almost as audible as a whisper. He looked at me blandly. I made toward him, but Ron caught me around the waist.  
  
"Let me go," I said. My voice was still low, but I couldn't help it. My throat emitted a low, growling noise. He looked slightly regretful. The rage that filled me when he said that word was so strong, I could have killed him right then. Luckily for him, I was so distracted I didn't remember that my wand was in my sleeve. I struggled against Ron's grip, but he was by far stronger than I was.  
  
"Charlie, stop!" he said. He started to carry me down the car.  
  
"You will get yours Malfoy," I said, voice cracking slightly. The adrenaline was leaving me, replaced by an icy hate that I couldn't let go of. Ron carried me into the next car and set me down. I walked the rest of the way myself, fists cold and clenched. I entered the compartment where I dimly heard Hermione and Ginny chatting and took a seat, tucked my feet under me, and stared out the window until my eyes watered. After a few minutes, the train started to move, and I noticed that the only sound was that of the wheels on tracks. I glanced at everyone in the compartment, feeling cold and distant. I saw that Fred and George had entered the room, along with a black guy I didn't recognize.  
  
"Charlie?" said Hermione cautiously. I glanced at her. She looked scared, and I felt my face soften. I looked away. "Charlie, what's wrong?" I shook my head and closed my eyes. I didn't want to recall.  
  
"We met Malfoy," said Ron. I opened my eyes at his tone. He sounded angry, but worried. "He said something to Charlie, though, I don't really know..." He trailed off. Hermione looked at me.  
  
"What? What did he say?" she asked. My nostrils flared, and I felt my eyes unfocus.  
  
"I don't rightly know," said Ron puzzledly. I blinked, glancing at him. "Seddeguar or something." I felt my lips tighten. Everyone was looking at me now.  
  
"He called me-," I started to say. I cleared my throat and looked at my feet. "Seregaur." I heard Hermione gasp, and Fred, George, and their friend made sounds of disbelief.  
  
"I don't mean to sound ignorant," spoke up Harry cautiously. "But, what does that mean?"  
  
"It, it means," Hermione began, flustered. She looked at me incredulously. "But, HOW? I mean, are you really? And if you are, how did he know?" I shook my head, smiling bitterly.  
  
"I didn't know he'd be able to recognize," I started to say; I felt tears rising to the surface, realizing that once my new friends figured out what I was, they probably wouldn't be my friends anymore. I swallowed convulsively and lowered my eyes.  
  
"I mean, I didn't realize," I said awkwardly. How could I say this? "I didn't know that anyone would be familiar enough with, um, yeah, to be able to recognize the physical aspects on sight," I said slowly, choosing my words carefully.  
  
"Could someone please start from the beginning?" pleaded Ron confusedly. "I have no idea what you are talking about." George waved him off impatiently.  
  
"Charlotte, are you telling us that, though the little git," he said, obviously talking about Malfoy, "was horrible to say that word to you, are you saying that there is some truth to what he said?" Everyone looked at me, but I kept my eyes plastered to the floor. There was a long silence.  
  
"Yes," I said finally. Fred let out a deep breath.  
  
"Is it true then?" he asked. I frowned. Hadn't I just said yes? "I mean, are you, er, dangerous? By the way this is Lee Jordan." I smiled without humor.  
  
"Nice to meet you," I said quickly. I chuckled. "And, no, not to any of you. I was so happy to move here, to get away from everyone who knew what I was. I thought I could start over, no one would make judgments before they even knew me. Guess that's out the window." I shrugged. "Can't be worse than at the Academy."  
  
"Will someone please tell me what is going on here!" shouted Ron. I jumped slightly. His ears turned red. "That came out a bit louder than I meant," he muttered. I giggled uncertainly. The whole compartment erupted in laughter. After it all died down, I took a deep breath.  
  
"Okay, Ron," I said, hugging my knees. "I know you deserve an explanation. See, here's the thing. That word Malfoy called me," I began darkly. I paused. I had no idea how to explain. Luckily, Hermione knew more about myself than I did.  
  
"Charlie?" she said inquiringly. I waved her on, let her take the stage. "Okay. Ah, oh, let me just say it. Seregaur," she began. I stiffened slightly, but she didn't notice. "From the Old Language, it means 'wolf blood'." Ginny interrupted her, casting a terrified but determined look in my direction.  
  
"You're a werewolf, you mean?" she asked, turning pink. I shook my head along with Hermione, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan.  
  
"No, though a lot of people have people like me confused with werewolves," I told her. Ron still looked bewildered.  
  
"But, I'm still confused-," he said. Hermione cut him off impatiently.  
  
"Just listen," she said hastily. "It really doesn't mean anything dirty, but over the decades it has come to be known as a bit of an insult. Like I said, it only means 'wolf blood', but the Seregaur of old have been said to be in league with Dark wizards." She paused, glancing warily at me. I let the tiniest of quirks into my mouth, and she went on, encouraged. "I actually heard Professor Dumbledore talking about them. He thinks they are very respectable. I'm assuming he was talking about you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. I nodded.  
  
"Probably," I said. I hadn't met this headmaster yet, but he sounded like a really great man. Harry had told me that he had given a teaching job to a werewolf a couple years back. I glanced at Harry. He was staring straight ahead, and I lowered my eyes, abashed. He was angry with me.  
  
"...qualities of wolves," Hermione was saying. "If you need an example, they're basically like natural born wolf Animagi, except they can 'morph' halfway, or stay in their human form, or morph all the way into a wolf." Ron and Ginny were gaping at me. I heard a loud clanking noise in the hall, and jumped, eyes widened with alertness. Everyone looked at me, bewildered, until a few minutes later, when a witch with a food cart rolled in front of the door. I relaxed. Fred looked at me incredulously.  
  
"Wait, did you hear her coming?" he asked. I nodded, hiding my embarrassment in buying a chocolate frog and some Bertie Bott's. Everyone was silent, buying things from the cart. I noticed Harry was still in his seat, looking troubled. The witch cast him a curious look, but shrugged and moved on to the next compartment. I popped a jellybean in my mouth. Strawberry shortcake. I let the flavor swirl through my mouth. Everyone was silent.  
  
"Harry?" I said timidly. He stared for a few moments more, then looked at me painfully. I felt my face start to crumble, and I buried my nose in my sweater. Someone was hugging me, and I looked up, eyes glistening. Hermione. Ron came over too and put an arm around me. I smiled, lip trembling.  
  
"We don't care if you're a wolfy person, or a house-elf," said Fred firmly, shoving Ron out of the way and taking his place. My smile widened. I glanced at Harry, who was still looking at me, and felt it flicker. I shrugged off the hugs politely and stepped over to him.  
  
"What are you thinking?" I asked, little hope left in my voice. He looked at me quizzically, then something dawned on his face.  
  
"Oh, no, no, no!" he said. His face clouded slightly. "I was just thinking........how much I want to hit Malfoy...." He looked at me seriously. "You must know.....we'd never desert you for such a minor thing...." I beamed at him.  
  
"Yeah, our second year at Hogwarts," said Hermione, shaking her head. "Malfoy went around calling me a, ah, a Mudblood." My hatred of this Malfoy character was renewed. That was a blatant and dirty insult, worse than seregaur. I made a face.  
  
"Don't worry, I am SO going to get him," I said. Hermione looked worried.  
  
"But, um, if you attack another student-," she said.  
  
"I'm not going to ATTACK anyone," I said testily. Her mouth quirked. "But he WILL hate me by the end of the year," I said darkly. Harry slung an arm around my shoulder.  
  
"Welcome to the club," he said with a grin. I forced a smile, but still paled at the thought of Malfoy telling everyone. Which, of course, I knew he would. Ron still looked confused.  
  
"I'm still a bit shady on this whole thing," he said, frowning. "You're a human wolf, but not a werewolf? How...?" I smiled, biting my lip.  
  
"That just means," I said, looking him in the eye. I let a breath out. "That I can do this," I paused, closed my eyes, and opened them again, flashing them a toothy grin. Everyone gasped. There was nothing to see my reflection in, but I knew what it looked like. Blue eyes, turned to a harsh, oval yellow; canines lengthened and pointy. I stopped and closed my eyes again. When I opened them, I knew they were back to blue again. I rolled my neck and sighed.  
  
"Wow, I haven't done that all summer," I breathed. I glanced at everyone; they looked at me with a horrified fascination.  
  
"That," said Ron. He looked dangerously close to either fainting or screaming. "That," he said again, "was bloody brilliant." I grinned.  
  
"Why, thank you," I said courteously.  
  
"What else can you do?" asked George eagerly. Hermione stepped in hastily.  
  
"Stop, you guys," she said. She glanced at me apologetically, then continued scolding them. "She not a circus act, you know."  
  
"We know THAT," jumped in Fred. "Charlie's got some hidden talents, we are simply proposing that she show them to us." He raised an eyebrow. I sighed with mock impatience.  
  
"Really, guys," I said, clucking my tongue. "Try reading a BOOK once in a while." I plopped down nonchalantly in my seat. "It's not that big of a deal. I'm still a witch, ya know. Just, with extra abilities."  
  
"Harry's got 'extra abilities'," Ron blurted. He turned scarlet, and Harry smacked him on the arm.  
  
"Ron!" he hissed embarrassedly. I raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Harry?" I said innocently. I looked around with wide eyes. "I just shared a dreadful secret, here! Your turn," I told him. I interrupted his protests. "Ah, ah, ah, please? It would make me feel better," I smiled sweetly at him. He hunched his shoulders.  
  
"I can't just DO it," he mumbled. "I've got to be facing a, you know..." Now I was curious.  
  
"No, I don't know," I said pointedly. He sighed.  
  
"I'm a Parselmouth," he said bluntly. Whatever I had been expecting, it wasn't that. My eyes widened like never before, and my mouth dropped so quickly, I looked down to make sure it wasn't on the floor.  
  
"But, but," I spluttered. "I thought you defeated Him, like, five times?!"  
  
"Four," he said sharply. He shrugged. "I guess when I got this," he motioned toward his forehead, his scar, "Vol -, er, You-Know-Who's power transferred to me. I'm not evil or anything," he said hastily. I smiled wryly.  
  
"Yeah, me neither, dude," I agreed. I popped a jellybean in my mouth, made a sound of disgust, and spit it out the window. "Hey, I love clams; I'm from the East Coast, right? But in a jelly bean? That's just wrong." 


	8. Chapter Eight

**wee!!!! Ten pages on Word! Holy Cow! I don't know if you care, but this is the 43rd page all together..wow..**  
  
  
  
  
  
"Something I still don't get," said Ron, a half hour later. "How did Malfoy know? I mean, I saw your eyes; they stayed blue. And you weren't showing your teeth, so..." He trailed off, scratching his head. I sighed.  
  
"There's a sign," I said. "It's like, you recognize mermaids by their hair, teeth, and fins? Well, you recognize, um, us, by our ears." Ron gave me a Look.  
  
"Your ears?" he said. I grinned.  
  
"Yeah, that's why I usually never wear my hair up or out of my face," I said. "That day in Diagon Alley, I don't know what was wrong with me. I should have been more cautious. Hey, I'm surprised you guys didn't recognize me then," I told Fred, George, and Hermione.  
  
"Well, we weren't exactly on the lookout for seregaur, were we?" Fred pointed out.  
  
"Yes, it was sort of at the back of my mind," said Hermione. "If I had been thinking of it, I probably would have recognized you, but I've only read about them in books." They all nodded.  
  
"Well, what's the matter with your ears?" Ron asked, peering at me. "Can I see?" I smiled shyly.  
  
"Well, I don't know..." I probed the floor with my toe. "I'm a bit self- conscious about them, to tell the truth..."  
  
"Pleeeeeeease?" said Ron. He gave me a pleading face. I let out a breath.  
  
"Oh, all right," I said. I shoved my hair behind my ears irritably. "See, I have this little habit of taking my annoyances out on my hair. I put it behind my ears when we were leaving Malfoy, and he saw, and..." I shrugged.  
  
"Whoa," breathed Ron. He poked my ear. Again, I couldn't see myself, but if I could, I knew I would see long ears that came to a sharp point.  
  
"Ow!" I said, jerking away from him. "Jeez," I said, rubbing it. I smiled good-naturedly, though. "Well, they add character, I guess."  
  
"Hey, when you hear something far away, do they prick up?" asked George teasingly. I smiled sarcastically.  
  
"Well, why don't you leave, go really far away, then act like a maniac and be really loud, and I'll tell you if they do, hm?" I told him. Everyone laughed. Hermione glanced at her watch.  
  
"We'd better get our robes on," she said. "It's late, we'll be there any minute." I nodded, then frowned.  
  
"What about our tru-," I started to ask.  
  
"They're right there," she said, pointing to a corner. The trunks were packed up against the corner, and almost invisible. We yanked our own down and opened them. I pulled out my robes. They were much better than the ones at the Academy. They were black, long, swishing down to the floor, with long sleeves and the Hogwarts emblem printed on the breast. I took off my sweater and threw the robes on over my normal clothes. I took out my cloak and set it on my seat, replacing it with the sweater. I closed my trunk and shoved it back against the wall. Everyone was straightening their robes just as the train started to slow down. I leaned over and peered out the window. HOGSMEADE STATION, read a big sign. I sat down, moving my cloak into my lap.  
  
"Hogsmeade?" I said quizzically. "That's the village or something, right? My stepdad signed a form so I could go there."  
  
"Yeah, it's really great," said Ron eagerly. "Honeydukes, and the post, and the...the....shrieking shack..." I saw Ron's ears turn pink.  
  
"What?" I said, frowning. "What's wrong with it?"  
  
"Nothing," said Harry hastily. "Tell you later..." The train came to a complete stop, and we left the compartment.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I hugged my cloak close to me as I stared up at the magnificent castle. There were so many turrets and towers I couldn't count them all. My hearing tuned in to a high-pitched cackling, and I was startled out of my wits by a louder, closer laugh.  
  
"Hee hee, sorry," said George, grinning. "Your ears. They....they...pricked up..." He went into the castle still snorting. I shook my head.  
  
"Quite a ride, wasn't it?" said Hermione, cheeks pink from the cold. I smoothed my hair down nervously, and smiled.  
  
"It was amazing," I agreed. We had ridden from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts in, how to put it, horse-less carriages. The ride wasn't very smooth, but the seats were soft and your backside sunk into them when you sat down.  
  
"I think this is the first year we've arrived and it hasn't been raining," remarked Harry, looking up. Instinctively, I threw my weight against the two of them, shoving them aside and almost knocking them over. Two seconds later, a shower of water hit the spot where we had just been standing. I looked up sharply at the cackling, belonging to a ghost sticking his translucent and leering face out of a fourth story window. I glared up at it, but removed my arm from its protective place stuck out in front of Harry and Hermione.  
  
"What the bloody...?" came Ron's voice. "What was that?"  
  
"Peeves," said Harry and Hermione in unison. "Don't worry, you'll get used to him," Harry added to me. I nodded, but my attention was elsewhere. Malfoy was coming up the stairs, the two gorillas in his wake. He caught sight of me and smiled evilly. I ran my tongue along the inside of my cheek and grinned back. His smile flickered, and he looked back to assure himself his bodyguards were still there. He blinked at me, pausing, but then rushed into the castle. I chuckled.  
  
"Eurgh, would you please put those away?" said Ron, shuddering. "No offense, but they're a bit creepy." I flashed him one last toothy grin with my fangs, then changed back. I looked up again.  
  
"Ah, maybe we should get inside," I remarked, sniffing slightly. "I think Harry's going to be proven wrong after all." Surely enough, we had barely gotten through the humongous oak doors when it started to pour. There was a clap of thunder and we all jumped involuntarily.  
  
"Ooh, let's get to the Great Hall," said Hermione, shuddering. "Lots of people in there." I followed them cautiously down a passageway with suits of armor and paintings scattered here and there. We reached another set of smaller double doors, and shoved them open. I looked around, completely in awe. There were candles floating midair above four long tables that ran down the length of the room. There was one table, elevated, set in front of the rest. I took off my cloak slowly and draped it on the crook of my elbow. I looked up at the ceiling and gasped. It was the sky. I could see the rain, and some lightning, and clouds that looked fat with water. I turned to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were wearing identical looks of amusement as they surveyed me.  
  
"Well...?" said Harry, raising an eyebrow. I grinned.  
  
"Well...it's not like home at all," I said with a sigh. "But I think I could get used to it." I looked at the roof again, and broke the facade. "I can't BELIEVE this ceiling!" I squeaked. "How on earth...?" Hermione cleared her throat professionally, and I saw Ron roll his eyes.  
  
"They bewitch it to look like the sky outside," she said knowledgeably. "It even shows the weather, see? Rain? I read about it in-"  
  
"Hogwarts, A History," said Harry and Ron simultaneously. They all looked at each other, and we laughed. I shook my head, smiling, and turned to survey the other students. I saw a rather severe looking teacher walking toward me. She gave me a small smile that, from the look I got from Harry, wasn't a very common thing to see on that face. She was tall, thin, with glasses, and a few frown lines. She wore her black hair in a knot at the top of her head, and bulky dark green robes.  
  
"Ms. Porter?" she said inquiringly. I nodded. She put her hand out. "I'm Professor McGonagall. I teach Transfiguration, and I'm the head of Gryffindor house. Professor Dumbledore would like to delay your Sorting until after the feast, if you don't mind. He likes to be present, and we are sure you don't want to be sorted with the first years." She arched an eyebrow questioningly. Sorting? Gryffindor? I had no idea what she was talking about. I nodded, trying not to be an idiot. She smiled and looked around. A stern facade overcame her face, covering what I thought was amusement.  
  
"I see you've found some friends already?" she said. I could have sworn her mouth was twitching. "Oh, yes, that's right," she amended. "You stayed with Potter this summer. Now I remember. Were the, ah, Dursleys, was it? Were the Dursleys welcome to you?"  
  
"Yes, yes they were," I said automatically. "Though they weren't exactly all smiles and sunshine to Harry," I blurted. My cheeks reddened. "Oops," I muttered, mentally smacking myself.  
  
"Yes, we know about Potter's living situation," said McGonagall sternly. I thought I saw something move in her face though. Pity? "Well, I just wanted to say...welcome to Hogwarts!" And with that, she rushed out of the hall. I raised an eyebrow at the three, and they grinned.  
  
"McGonagall," said Ron, like a wizened old codger. "Ah, yes, head of our house." I frowned.  
  
"Oh yeah," I said, remembering. "What was she talking about, a Sorting? And, Gryffindor, or something?" Hermione nodded.  
  
"Yes, there are four houses at Hogwarts," she began, in a tone I was beginning to get used to. I thought after a few months my eyes would begin to glaze over like Harry and Ron's were now. "Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin," she recited. I couldn't help but snicker.  
  
"Hufflepuff," I said amusedly. Hermione ignored it.  
  
"Every incoming student is sorted into one of these houses, basically based on their personalities," she said. She reminded me of Professor McGonagall. "Harry, Ron, and I, and basically everyone you've met so far, are in Gryffindor."  
  
"And McGonagall's the head teacher of Gryffindor?" I asked, feeling skeptical. Hermione nodded.  
  
"She's a good teacher," she said, a bit protectively. She started to go on, but I stopped her.  
  
"I'm sure she is," I said soothingly. I smiled sourly. "Slytherin doesn't sound so good. Lemme guess. Malfoy's in there, eh?" Ron was about to answer, but was cut off.  
  
"Please, take your seats, students!" said a deep voice from the front of the hall. I followed Harry and the others, glancing at the owner of the voice. It was an old wizard, with a white beard down to his middle and hair the same to his back. He wore deep blue robes and semi-circle glasses. This is definitely Dumbledore, I thought. I wasn't sure, but I could swear he had just winked at me. I smiled back, and followed Harry. I was receiving some strange looks from students, and flattened my hair over my ears nervously.  
  
"D'you think Malfoy's told everyone?" I asked. Harry, Ron, and Hermione nodded simultaneously.  
  
"All his friends, at least," said Ron. He looked like he had just eaten something nasty. "Perhaps not everyone yet." Harry gave me a comforting look.  
  
"No worries, Charlie," he said reassuringly. "Doesn't matter to those of us who know you." He grinned, and I smiled back thankfully. We finally found a section of the bench long enough for four people. Fred, George, and Lee Jordan plopped down across from us. They looked reproachful.  
  
"We've just passed Malfoy," said George hesitantly. "He was talking about...you know." I nodded.  
  
"Yeah, well," I replied, shrugging. "Who cares, right?" They all nodded quickly. I sensed the Hall getting quiet, and glanced at Dumbledore. He stood up, and a hushed silence went around the room. He put his hands up to quiet the few snickering students. I glanced at them and was not surprised to see Malfoy among them. I ignored him and gave my attention to Dumbledore. I was expecting him to give some extravagant speech, but he just sat down, and fixed his gaze on the double doors. I raised an eyebrow, but followed his glance and waited. Suddenly, the doors burst open and a line of little kids in Hogwarts robes filed in, Professor McGonagall at the front. Some of them looked a bit wet.  
  
"First years," Hermione whispered into my ear. I watched McGonagall place something old and ratty on a stool in the front of the hall. "They put the Sorting Hat on, and it places them in whichever house they're supposed to be in." I nodded interestedly. Well, that was a bit different.  
  
"At SAWW, we had only two 'houses'," I told them quietly. "We had to say something, a spell, and smoke would come out of the tips of our wands, and spell out the name of which house we were supposed to be in. It was really cool-looking." I watched as several first-years tried on the hat, and it actually shouted out the names of different houses. No new Gryffindors so far. At around the fifteenth name, 'Mulholland, Christine', the hat's shrill voice shrieked, "GRYFFINDOR!" The whole table exploded in applause and sounds of excitement. Christine joined the table modestly. I chatted intermittently with everyone through the Sorting, until the last name was called. Dumbledore stood up, and all the applause died.  
  
"Welcome, welcome, to all our new students," his voice rang throughout the Hall. "Enjoy this year's feast. I will join you in a few minutes," he paused. Then, looking directly at me, "I must take care of some new business. And now, a few words..." He beamed around at everyone. "Star pillow." I raised an eyebrow, but forgot it once I saw all the food. It just, appeared after his last word. The gold plates were filled with English cuisine. Some of it looked less than appetizing, but I shrugged it off. I felt someone's gaze pulling for my attention, and glanced back up at Dumbledore. He was making his way to the double doors to leave the Hall. He motioned to me. I glanced longingly at the table of food, but stood up and quickly walked to meet him. When I reached Dumbledore, he smiled widely at me.  
  
"It is a pleasure to have you here, Ms. Porter," he said kindly. I shook his hand.  
  
"Pleased to meet you," I murmured. His eyes twinkled. Professor McGonagall appeared at his side.  
  
"I am sorry to taunt you with all this wonderful food," he said, acknowledging her presence with a nod. "But you must be Sorted first. Do not worry, it won't take long, as you observed." He raised a white eyebrow at me. I nodded. "Well, then. Please follow me." I obeyed. He led me back down the corridor halfway, coming up next to a large gargoyle statue. "Circus peanuts." The statue moved aside, revealing a spiral stairway. I followed him down the steps, McGonagall right behind me. We finally emerged into a splendid office, furnished with cherrywood and gold. I looked up and saw portraits of who must have been the school's previous headmasters. One of the pictures snored loudly, and another winked at me. I blinked, slightly unnerved as I always was at the moving pictures. I hadn't grown up in the wizarding world, and I still wasn't used to all the things it had to offer.  
  
"Minerva? The Sorting Hat, if you will?" said Dumbledore pleasantly. McGonagall handed the slightly dirty hat to him. He motioned for me to take a seat in an armchair. I did so, and he placed the bulky thing on my head, preventing my sight. I felt like an idiot. But then, there was a voice that seemed to be coming from the hat.  
  
"Hm. Never had a born half-witch before," it said shrewdly. "I can see, you get along well with people, but there's still that vicious spirit inside you. I don't believe you've shown it to anyone, hm? That spirit could be used for good, you know. It would give you courage. Gryffindor seems like the best for you. But that other half is tugging at me. A seregaur, eh? Hm...they are generally said to be Dark...Slytherin would do well too..." I raised an eyebrow. "...but you have that GOOD in you...yes, I do believe I know. GRYFFINDOR!" Dumbledore removed the hat, looking pleased. He said something to McGonagall, but my ears were still ringing, and I didn't hear it. McGonagall placed the hat on top of a shelf and, for her usual placid disposition, positively beamed at me. I remembered that she was the head of Gryffindor house.  
  
"I've told Professor McGonagall about you," he said, eyes sparkling. "The other teachers as well. I don't like to keep secrets from the students, or their parents, but I think it would be best if you didn't tell everyone about your heritage." He gave me a slightly stern look, and I squirmed.  
  
"Actually, sir," I said uncomfortably. "I believe one of the other student's fathers told them about me. He recognized what I am. And from what I've been told about him, he'd waste no time in telling his friends." I must have looked worried, because McGonagall clucked her tongue disbelievingly.  
  
"I don't think any of our students would spread something like that," she said. "Who was this person?"  
  
"Draco Malfoy," I said promptly. I saw McGonagall's nostrils flare, but all she said was, "Oh."  
  
"Not to worry, my dear," said Dumbledore happily. "No worries at all. Now, shall we get back to the feast?" I smiled, not really feeling it, and followed him out. He turned one last time. "By the way, dear. Do you have any favorite foods? Desserts?" I looked at him, surprised.  
  
"Uh, yeah," I said. Talk about random, I thought. "Apple pie?" He nodded, winking, and we left.  
  
  
  
  
  
The hall was completely silent as I opened the door. Everyone stared at me, some looking slightly afraid. I met gazes with Harry and questioned him silently. He nodded. Well. Malfoy HAD told everyone already. I surveyed everyone with a sort of defiant bravery, and walked right over to the Gryffindor table, sitting between Harry and Hermione, across from Fred and George. Everyone was still silent. George caught my eye, put his index fingers by his head like pointy ears, bared his teeth, and crossed his eyes. I burst out laughing, from nerves and because he looked extremely funny. The whole table erupted in cheers, startling me. The Hall resumed loud conversation. I let out a deep breath.  
  
"Thanks," I said to George. He waved me off and shoved a plate of chicken across the table. I loaded my plate with things I recognized, avoiding things I didn't, like what Ron had helpfully identified as 'steak-and- kidney pie'. I had been late, and dessert platters were already beginning to appear. I ate my fill of regular food, but quickly moved on to dessert. I honestly wasn't that hungry, but the snickers coming from the Slytherin table made me crave comfort food. I wrinkled my nose at everything.  
  
"Ah, what's that?" I asked warily, pointing at a bowl of orange gook.  
  
"Pumpkin pudding," said Ron thickly, through a mouthful of something. I raised my eyebrows and moved on.  
  
"Ooh, that's unusual," said Hermione. I craned my neck to see what she was looking at. "We don't usually have-"  
  
"Apple pie," I said softly. It looked piping hot, like it had just come out of the oven. Lee Jordan passed it down the table.  
  
"Ouch, here," he said, and resumed conversation with another student. I cut myself a piece slowly.  
  
"What the-" came Ron's voice. "Ice cream? How strange, look. Just plain vanilla." He shrugged, shoved it aside, and reached for a slice of chocolate fudge cake. I took a scoop of the ice cream from its bowl and plopped it onto my pie, a smile slowly growing on my face. I looked toward the head table. Dumbledore beamed at me, and I chuckled to myself, giving him a little wave.  
  
  
  
  
  
When everyone seemed stuffed, the food just disappeared, leaving the gold plates sparkling clean. Dumbledore stood up, face glowing.  
  
"And now, before you go off to your dorms, I have a few announcements," he said. He had everyone's rapt attention. "First of all, some of you may be wondering why 'dress robes' were listed in your letters." A few girls giggled, and Hermione had a suspicious look on her face. "No, I'm afraid that due to the results of last year's Tri-Wizard Tournament..." A wave of whispers washed over the Hall. "...it will not be happening this year, or anytime in the near future. But, since last year's Yule Ball was so successful, we have decided to hold it again this year." The hall burst into cheers and excited voices. Dumbledore raised his hands and everyone went silent once more. "Yes, yes, I know you are all excited. On to more important business. Now, as you may already have heard, we have a new student. She has transferred from an American school, and is in her fifth year. Charlotte Porter, would you stand up please?" I did so, cheeks flaming. Dumbledore nodded, and I sat back down quickly. "I know there are rumors going around about Ms. Porter. This does not happen often, but now I will tell you the true story. Ms. Porter is a seregaur." A few random gasps echoed throughout the hall. I heard people mutter confused questions amongst their tables. ("A what?")  
  
"Jeez, as if they hadn't heard already," I muttered contemptuously.  
  
"Quiet!" Dumbledore's voice rang clearly throughout the room. "Despite the reputation seregaur have, I am happy to say that it is only a stereotype. Ms. Porter is no more dangerous than you or the person sitting next to you." He smiled at me. I returned it weakly but gratefully. Some people were giving me curious looks. "The last thing I have to talk about is your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I don't believe he has arrived yet..." For the first time I noticed an empty seat at the table. "Ah, there he is! Everyone please welcome, Professor Gilmore!" By this time, I was no longer listening, because of the man walking up to the Head table. "Mr. Gilmore is also from the States. He worked for the ministry there and I do believe this is his first teaching job. Well, that is all! Off to bed with you, then! Classes tomorrow!" I sat there while everyone filed out of the room and toward their dorms. As people passed me they shot curious glances my way. A few people were staring at the side of my head, hoping for a glance of my ears. Finally, I stood up and walked with Harry, still staring at the man, who was now shaking Dumbledore's hand. Gilmore. Robert Gilmore. Widowed eleven years from his wife Emily Porter. My stepfather.  
  
  
  
You know what this means, said a little voice in my head. Yeah, I knew what it meant. It meant that my lies were coming back to bite me in the butt. My stepfather was going to find out that I had gone to wizarding school for the past four years, and was enrolled at Hogwarts for three more. A thought hit me in the stomach. Wait, he's a teacher. If he's a teacher, then he knows about the wizarding world. He's not a Muggle. Wizard. He's a wizard. Everything was going into place. Everything was starting to make sense, in a nerve-wracking, stressful, I-want-to-barf kind of way.  
  
"Well, look who it is," came a cold sneering voice from behind me. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I all turned to face Malfoy. He was accompanied by a few more people, all with the same malicious look on their faces. A curly- haired blonde had attached herself on his arm. "Look, look, look." His eyes were glinting. My nostrils flared uncontrollably as I momentarily forgot my recent family revelations.  
  
"Oh, hullo, Malfoy," I said, letting a sharp tone into my voice. "I'm surprised you can see at all with your head so far up your-"  
  
"Charlotte!" whispered Hermione sharply, face aghast. I looked at her apologetically.  
  
"Let's go," muttered Malfoy haughtily. He made pointy ears with his index fingers as he passed. I grinned widely at him, and he did what I could only call 'scampering'.  
  
"Ooh, put them away!" said Ron, shuddering. I changed my teeth back and continued to walk to the dorm.  
  
"So how does this whole dorm thing work?" I asked. "At Salem we had these doors, and like, the other house thought it was a bathroom or something, but when we said a password outside the door, it sort of turned into our dorm." Harry nodded.  
  
"Yeah, well, ours is behind a portrait," he explained. "You tell the lady the password, and she swings the picture forward, and it's a doorway."  
  
"Well, that makes sense," I said absently. We were among the last to reach what I assumed was the 'portrait-hole'. Students were still filing through it. There was a silence as I once more absorbed myself in my thoughts about my stepfather. How could this be? He worked for a DRILL company, not the U.S. Ministry of Magic. This was absurd, ridiculous. Absolutely crazy.  
  
"Charlie?" said Harry suddenly. I started.  
  
"Hm?" I said. I felt a bit dizzy.  
  
"Are you all right?" he asked, giving me a wary look. "You look a bit preoccupied." I waved a hand at him as we finally got through the portrait hole.  
  
"Oh, I'm fine," I said. He raised an eyebrow at me. I sat down in a big armchair in the common room, thinking for a few moments. I looked up, resigned. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all sitting around, waiting for me to speak. "Robert Gilmore is my stepfather," I said bluntly. Hermione's mouth turned into a big O, but Harry looked dimly confused, and Ron looked completely bewildered.  
  
"Who's Robert-" Ron started to ask.  
  
"Shut up Ron," said Hermione. She looked at me sympathetically. "I thought you told us he didn't know that you were a witch?"  
  
"He doesn't," I said wearily. "And I didn't know he was a wizard. He was the boss at the DRILL COMPANY!" I said loudly. I glanced around sheepishly. "Sorry," I said to some scared-looking first years. "I had no idea. He still doesn't know about me. He thinks I'm at boarding school." I paced around the room, feeling restless. "This is weird."  
  
"Hey, Charlie!" came a familiar voice. I turned, still agitated, to face Fred and George. 


	9. Chapter Nine

"What," I said, a bit rudely. But the night had been extremely overwhelming, and I had to go to the girls' dorm to check my schedule. To figure out what day I had Defense Against the Dark Arts.  
  
"Eek, maybe we should leave you alone for a bit," said Fred, making a face. "You seem a bit...tense..." I forced a smile. There were two other girls besides them, and they had obviously heard rumors about me. I didn't want to spur them to think I was a scary, grouchy person.  
  
"Naw it's okay," I said, making my tone lighten. "What is it?" George grinned.  
  
"Did you play Quidditch at your old school?" he asked innocently. I smiled, this time genuinely.  
  
"Tough luck, Harry already asked me that," I said. "Honestly, I never really got into it. I don't know the rules or anything, and I've never seen it played." Fred, George, Harry, Ron, and the two girls all looked scandalized.  
  
"Never?" asked one of the girls.  
  
"Nooooo," I said slowly. "Is that a crime?" They all grinned.  
  
"Yes," said Ron seriously. "Yes, it is!" He looked offended.  
  
"We'll show you," said another of the girls. "You can come and watch practice tomorrow. Every incoming student is tested for Quidditch talent anyway, so you can do that then." I nodded. Quidditch talent? I thought. Um, okay. Whatever.  
  
"I'm Angelina, by the way," she said, holding out a hand. "Angelina Johnson." I shook it.  
  
"Charlie Porter," I replied.  
  
"And I'm Katie Bell," said the other. We shook hands.  
  
"Pleased to meet you both," I said.  
  
"Angelina and Katie are Chasers," said George helpfully. I smiled at him.  
  
"Oh, yes, because I know what that means," I said sarcastically. I felt my eyelids being pulled down. "Um, I think I'm going to go up to bed now. You can tell me what a 'chaser' is tomorrow. 'Night guys." I trekked up the stairs to the girls dorm with Hermione, who had decided to join me. ("Want to get a good night's sleep. Classes tomorrow, you know!") With a little trouble I found my new bed, trunk set at the end of it. I was right next to Hermione, and I couldn't help but think that Dumbledore had me put there specially. I pulled out some pajamas, grabbed my schedule from the night- table, then crept into my four-poster, closing the curtains for privacy. I changed my clothes, draped my robes over my trunk, and settled back into the squishy pillows, staring at my schedule. Oh man, I thought wearily. Defense Against the Dark Arts tomorrow, right off the bat.  
  
I heard a slight tapping and felt my ears prick up. I slapped at my head irritably and opened my curtains. Hermione stood there shyly.  
  
"Just wondering if you want to compare schedules," she said hesitantly. Suddenly, I wasn't tired at all. I pat the bed invitingly in front of me and she hopped on. I set my piece of parchment down and she did likewise. We basically had all the same classes, but she had some weird ones like Arithmancy, while I had decided to take Divination. I had started the class two years ago, and decided to just go through with it. My teacher at Salem had been a total quack, though, and I wasn't sure the one here would be any different.  
  
"Ugh," said Hermione.  
  
"What?" I said, looking at my schedule.  
  
"Divination," she said simply, and left it at that. She went on down the list. "Ooh, you've got Muggle Studies, that was fun, of course, I had to drop it since my schedule was overloaded..." She went on, making little comments, but besides those two classes, ours were the same. "We usually have Double Potions with the Slytherins," she paused, making a nasty face, "Professor Snape, that's the teacher, he's the head of Slytherin house and completely favors them, treats us Gryffindors horribly.  
  
"Gryffindors usually get along pretty well with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw," she remarked. "Professor Sprout is the head of Hufflepuff, and the Herbology teacher. We usually double with the Hufflepuffs there too." I sighed, and there was a silence.  
  
"You're thinking of your stepfather?" she asked. I stared at the piece of paper, and nodded.  
  
"We have the class tomorrow," I said. I felt slightly nauseated at the thought, but swallowed firmly. "I still don't know what I'm going to do. I think I'll just go to class like everything's normal. That's the easiest thing to do." She nodded, and there was a silence. Finally, Hermione got up. I faked a yawn.  
  
"Well, I'm beat!" I said, with an enthusiasm I didn't feel. I put a hand up to close the curtains. "See you tomorrow, Hermione." I shut the curtain and collapsed on my bed. What a wonderful way to start off the year. I tried to think of the good things rather than the bad. I was in England. I was staying in a castle for the rest of the year. I was going to be learning magic. I had a group of friends I knew I was going to become closer to as time went on. I drifted off to sleep as happy as I could be, considering my current situation. 


	10. Chapter Ten

I was already late to my first class, Muggle Studies. I glanced at my schedule, skimming down the important details. On Mondays, I had Muggle Studies first thing in the morning, then Herbology after that, and after lunch I had Potions, and then Defense against the Dark Arts. I gulped nervously at the last one, and pushed it out of my mind, concentrating on my first class.  
  
I had so far fell through a trick step, gone down a wrong hallway, gone up a stairway only to have it change so that I had to find another way back, and taken wrong directions from a set of armor.  
  
When I finally reached the class, I was fifteen minutes late, which made it all the more embarrassing that I had to stand up in front of the class and be introduced to them.  
  
"Porter, Charlotte! Welcome to Hogwarts," said a bored looking woman, the teacher. I didn't even catch her name as she shoved me toward a desk. It felt as though the entire class was staring at me as I sat down. My nostrils flared nervously and I heard whispers. I sat down slowly, in a seat at the back of the classroom, and closed my eyes. This year was going to be no different from the others, except that I was even weirder.  
  
"Better prepare yourself for that," said a voice beside me. I opened my eyes and looked at the person I was sharing a table with. He was quite strange looking; his hair was dyed an obvious black, and he had eyes the color of the lake I had seen when we arrived at Hogwarts. He was what people at my old school would most definitely consider a punk. But that wasn't what was strange about him. It wasn't the eyebrow and lip piercings, nor was it the shocking vividness yet plain apathy visible in his eyes. It was his skin; it was a strange greenish color. Not seasick, and not painted; it didn't even seem like his skin was green, only that it gave off a green feeling. But it was a healthy green.almost plant-like. "It happens a lot the first few days." He bared his teeth in a fierce grin that displayed a set of straight, white teeth. "Especially to.strange ones, like us," he added, sitting back in his chair. For some reason, the way he said this last part insulted me. It was apparent to him that I was offended, but his smile grew and he held out his hand. "Gavin Edhelorn."  
  
I stared at him for a moment, then smiled. His eyes flickered a moment, but his smile didn't. I bit my lip with one fang, drawing a little bit of blood. I licked it absently. "Charlie Porter. Nice to meet you." I let go of his hand, turned around, and took out a few pieces of parchment and a quill, taking down notes. Make a new friend every day, I thought.  
  
"Hey guys," I said, poking at my chicken. It was lunchtime. Hermione, Ron, Harry, and I were eating together. We had just come from Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, and I had just seen that Gavin Edhelorn in my Muggle Studies class and was reminded off him. He winked at me and sidled over to the opposite end of the table.  
  
"Yah?" said Ron inquiringly. He had a mouth full of potatoes. I giggled.  
  
"What do you know about Gavin Edhelorn?" I asked. Hermione's expression grew dark.  
  
"He's really strange," she said, sniffing. I smiled sarcastically.  
  
"Thanks," I said dryly. She grinned.  
  
"He's a halfie, like you-" I stiffened, and Hermione covered her mouth. "Oh, goodness, Charlie, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean anything by it." I smiled.  
  
"I know," I said, waving at her. "Continue."  
  
"Well, he's.an elf," she said slowly. I frowned.  
  
"A house elf?" I asked, confused. "But how is that,-"  
  
"It's not," she interrupted me. "Not a house elf. He's a half-elf. There are hardly any elves left anywhere, but one of his parents is one, most likely his mother. From what I looked up in the library, the first time I saw him, he looks most like he's part tree nymph, but since tree nymphs can only be female, it's likely that his mother was a nymph and his father a wizard." I blinked at her.  
  
"Hermione, I say this in the friendliest way but.you are such a nerd," I said, chuckling. She grinned sheepishly, and continued.  
  
"Anyway, he's sort of a loner. I mean, he has friends, but when we first came to Hogwarts, I didn't even notice him. Halfway through first year, I caught a glimpse of him, then didn't see him until last year when I was in Muggle Studies and he was in my class. He sat at the back and never said anything." She grimaced. "I get a feeling he's trouble." I wrinkled my nose.  
  
"I don't know about that," I said. I didn't mean to defend the stranger, but I didn't think he was as bad as Hermione thought, as rude as he was to me. "I think he's just.actually, he acts like a rebellious Muggle teenager." I raised an eyebrow. How strange. "It seems that at Salem there were more cliques than there are at Hogwarts. I mean, here you have Gryffindor and Slytherin and everyone separated into their own groups, but at Salem, not only did we have the house separation, but also groups of.I don't know, social classes. The preppy group, the bullies, the punks, the nerds.you know." I shrugged. "He just seems like one of the punks to me."  
  
"What group were you in?" asked Harry. I smiled slightly.  
  
"I was part of a group in which none of the members ever spoke to each other," I said dully. "The group without unity, or friendship, or respect. The one that everyone hated, even the people in it. The outcasts." There was an awkward silence. I laughed uncertainly. "Good thing I'm agoraphobic, hm?" Hermione snorted uncontrollably.  
  
"What's 'agoraphobic'?" asked Ron confusedly. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

I walked into the Potions dungeon feeling very ill at ease. From what Harry, Ron, and Hermione had told me during lunch, the teacher, Professor Snape, hated all Gryffindors and worse, favored Slytherins, because he was the head of their house. I took a seat next to Hermione and nervously waited for the bell to ring. When this Snape entered the classroom, it was all I could do not to grimace. He had a distinctly slimy look to him, black hair sleeked back and greasy, with a huge hooked nose like a buzzard. His eyes appeared to be black as well, and he stared at me unpleasantly from behind his desk.  
  
"Welcome back," he said ironically. His voice was oily, and I had that feeling my seregaur self couldn't suppress, like a dog's mane prickling up when they feel cornered. "I have had all of you since your first year here," he began, eyes scanning to make sure everyone was there. I saw his eyes rest upon Harry and look extremely displeased to see him there and on time. I raised an eyebrow. His gaze swiveled to me. "All of you except, of course, our newest addition," he added slowly, eyes glittering. He turned abruptly and swept to the front of the class, suddenly hovering over my desk in the front of the classroom. My animal instinct felt challenged, and I was moved with all my being not to avert my eyes from his. He stood, towering over me for a moment, and I was sure it was a small test. And suddenly he was back at his desk again, rifling through papers. I sat up straight, feeling accomplished, until I heard him speak again.  
  
"Perhaps, as our newest, celebrity," he said, pausing, and I felt suddenly confused. Celebrity? I wondered. His eyes flickered to a table of a few boys sitting next to us, and I glanced quick enough to have caught them staring at me and whispering. I clenched my teeth and stared back at Snape, forcing what I hoped was a pleasant look onto my face.  
  
"Oh, not again," I heard Hermione mutter next to me. Snape smiled horribly.  
  
"Yes, perhaps you could tell me, Miss.Porter," he said, glancing at his roll sheet, though I knew perfectly well that he knew my name. "What is the main use of a seregaur's fangs, in what form must they be in for them to be of any use at all, and what is the only potion they are useful in?" The words came rushing out, but it seemed as though they echoed throughout the dungeon. I stiffened, but forced my eyes and teeth to stay normal. There was absolute silence all around me. I stared at the professor in front of me, having met him less than ten minutes ago, with the utmost loathing I had ever felt. His eyes glittered back maliciously. He was about to speak.  
  
"Well, I suppose if you don't kn-," he began lazily.  
  
"A seregaur's fangs are used, in a powdered form, to destroy a dementor," I felt myself say. I was numb, and my voice quiet but controlled. Snape's mouth dropped open. "They are in the very rare and almost never used Complacency/Cheer Concoction." I glanced at Snape slowly, and added, "The dementor must suck the potion in through its mouth while in the process of attempting to kiss a victim. The Complacency/Cheer Concoction is rare due to the fact that in turn, seregaurs are rare or unable to be found. The potion is extremely difficult to prepare, as well as time-consuming, and it is nearly impossible to actually use it on a dementor." My last word rang throughout the room, like Snape's had done.  
  
There was a silence. I got the very distinct feeling that Snape was waiting for me to add an insult. I didn't. Then very quietly, in fact almost inaudibly, Snape said, "Five points to Gryffindor." I smiled slightly for what I thought would be the satisfaction of the others, but felt no joy. I was coming out of a sort of stupor, and beginning to feel very indignant to, not to mention angry at, what this teacher had just made me do. It felt below the belt to me. Snape began to lecture on the Complacency/Cheer Concoction, mentioning briefly that of course the class would not be making this potion because, like I had said, seregaur fangs were nearly impossible to collect. A few people took notes, I observed, but most were looking enthralled, stunned, or angry, with me. I gave them all confused smiles, but didn't find out what they were so affected by until I turned to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They all positively beamed at me.  
  
"That was the best thing I have seen in my life," whispered Ron, his voice shaking with attempted control. He looked like he wanted to jump and yell.  
  
Hermione looked at me excitedly. "That was very good, I have to admit. Of course, I did know the answer, having read some Defense Against the Dark Arts book last year.it mentioned the Concoction, though I've never seen it in a Potions book.anyhow, well done, Charlie, beautifully accomplished."She trailed off in admiration. I glanced at Harry. He was grinning broadly.  
  
"I wouldn't have had that much self-control, even if I did know the answer," he admitted. "What a random question." I smiled sourly.  
  
"Oh come on, you know it wasn't random," I said pointedly. "He only asked because I am one.he wanted to throw me off guard, intimidate me.if I had frozen, like he expected, I'm sure, he probably would have poked at me all day for not knowing about my own species or something." But I couldn't help smiling.  
  
"It's not that the class is insanely difficult," said Ron slowly. "Hermione's answered loads of questions right before.it's just.that's the first time he's called on someone from Gryffindor, and they've answered right, without giving into his provoking them to insult him.and I still can't believe he gave you points." Ron shook his head, dazzled. I raised my eyebrow.  
  
"But you said Hermione's answered questions right before," I said. "He didn't give her points for that?" Hermione shook her head.  
  
"No, I'd always raised my hand," she explained. "He never gave me any points. Of course, plenty of those idiots," she jerked her head at the Slytherins, "did the same thing I did and got points by the fifties for stupid questions." Her eyes narrowed, but she shrugged. "Snape favors them," she said simply. I started to ask another question, but was cut off.  
  
"Essay on the Complacency/Cheer Concoction, including descriptions of all its ingredients, due Friday!" barked Snape, and the bell rang.  
  
"Bah, I can see everything you told me was completely true," I told Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "And I only attended one class!" We chuckled.  
  
"He's a mean one, is Snape," said Hermione stiffly. I caught Harry and Ron exchanging glances, and smiled. Harry grinned at me.  
  
"Says the same one who used to boast 'All teachers are gods'" said Harry in a singsong voice. Hermione punched his shoulder, but laughed with us. We had an hour break until our next class, so we headed to the Gryffindor common room to hang out.  
  
"Kippered herring," said Hermione to the portrait of the fat lady, who swung forward. We all slouched into armchairs near a window.  
  
"What class do we have next?" asked Ron absently. I must have made some sort of movement, because Harry and Hermione glanced toward me.  
  
"Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Harry, and Ron's gaze joined theirs. I smiled, I hoped encouragingly.  
  
"Do you.er, have any idea what you're going to do?" asked Harry nervously.  
  
"No clue," I replied, and sank deeper into my chair. There was a silence.  
  
"How was your brother, Ron?" asked Harry, staring at the ceiling. There was a definitive silence, and Harry and I both looked sharply at Ron. At first he looked blank, then licked his lips meditatively.  
  
"Oh! Oh, he was fine," he said hurredly, standing up and crossing to look out a window. Harry stuck his tongue inside his cheek and frowned.  
  
"Ron?" he said, looking over the back of his chair. "Ron come sit down." Ron did so slowly.  
  
"I was just thinking," said Harry, looking at the rug, "did ALL of your family go to visit Charlie in Romania?" Ron nodded quickly, glancing at Hermione, but she was staring out the window. "For only two days?" Ron threw a hopeless glance at Hermione, who resolutely ignored him. I felt like I was watching a tennis match, my eyes moving from Ron, to Hermione, to Harry, who by now was looking a bit angry. "And it would cost quite a bit of money to take a trip like that," Harry said, speaking more and more quickly, "and I wouldn't think your dad would choose this particular time to go on a vacation, Voldemort having risen again, and all." I blanched and made an unintentional choking sound. WHAT? I thought, my mind racing. WHAT DID HE MEAN VOLDEMORT HAD RISEN AGAIN? I stared at Harry with wide eyes. He glanced at me.  
  
"I'll explain later," he said quickly, and turned back to Ron.  
  
"Harry," I said, my voice oddly high pitched. I made an effort to lower it. "Harry, for all our friendship's worth, I think you should tell me NOW." I must have looked dangerous, because he hardly hesitated before launching into a story about a Triwizard Tournament, a Death Eater in disguise as a teacher, and the meeting of Voldemort himself, which had ended in the death of a student named Cedric Diggory. I gaped at Harry when he had finished.  
  
"You mean.Voldemort? He's back?" I asked slowly. Harry nodded. "Dumbledore believes this?" Harry looked slightly offended, but nodded. I stared at him for a moment, then blinked. "Harry.if all this happened to you.why weren't you held under some sort of.protection? Over the summer? What if Voldemort," I paused, finally noticing that Hermione and Ron flinched slightly every time Harry and I said it, "had just showed up on Privet Drive and slaughtered us all?" I was suddenly furious with Dumbledore for letting this happen. How dare he put us in that sort of careless danger? I stood up and started pacing the room, receiving uncomfortable looks from a few first years lounging there. I was torn between an inescapable terror, wanting to hide from Voldemort, and a horrible fury at Dumbledore for placing Harry in a situation where we could have been in mortal danger.  
  
"That wouldn't have happened," said Hermione quietly, so quietly, in fact, that at first I wasn't sure she had spoken. I walked over to the chairs.  
  
"And how can you be so sure of that?" I asked sarcastically.  
  
"Because Dumbledore had guards around him the entire time," she said softly.  
  
"But-," I began impatiently, then a dawn of realization seemed to come over Harry and me at the same time.  
  
"HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?" we both bellowed. Hermione looked very small. I glanced at Ron, realizing that he knew too. Harry seemed to be feeling the same way.  
  
"The two of you," he said, his voice shaking slightly. "You both knew. You both knew, and you didn't say a thing in your letters except 'Just hang in there, Harry' or 'Buck up, old chap, we'll be back at Hogwarts soon'? You all knew," he said suddenly. I glanced at him. He seemed to be a bit angrier than I was, but that didn't change the fact that we were both seething. "Your mum, Ron, and your dad," he said in a betrayed voice. "Your brothers and Ginny.I suppose Sir-.I suppose Snuffles was in on it too, hm?" He glared at the two of them. They looked terrified.  
  
"Harry, I swear, we wanted to tell you but-," Hermione tried to get a word in, but Harry waved her off.  
  
"But Dumbledore wanted me to live with the Dursleys and hide and be safe, was that it?" Harry was shouting by now. My mind was racing. Why had Dumbledore placed me with Harry in the Dursleys house? I would have only been in the way, and perhaps added to the deaths if Voldemort had come to the house. I didn't understand at all, and in my confusion took the lack of understanding as a sign of betrayal. I backed away from the chairs, feeling as though I had been forcefully shoved into something, but couldn't see a thing.  
  
"Charlie?" said Ron, glancing warily at me. "Charlie where are you.? Charlie!" I broke into a run, tearing out of the common room and down the hall toward the exit. I bumped rather heavily into Professor McGonagall, but kept going, finally out of the castle. I heard someone else call my name, Harry or Ron, but I kept running. I ran until I reached a small house, then looked back wildly. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were following me, along with McGonagall; they were about halfway between the castle and me. I snapped my head around, looking for other students, but didn't see any. I turned to run again, and changed myself into my wolf form. I felt wary of the forest in front of me, but there didn't seem to be anywhere else to go. I looked back one last time, then sprinted in. I didn't go that far; I could still hear McGonagall screeching orders to someone. I decided I would run along the edge of the forest, remembering what Dumbledore had said about it being forbidden to students. I leaped over tree stumps and undergrowth; it felt wonderful to be an animal. All the human emotions I had just been overwhelmed with seemed far away. I ran as fast as I could in one direction, then turned around and trotted in the opposite one. I heard people talking.  
  
"Where'd she go in, Professor?" said a deep gruff voice. I recognized Hagrid.  
  
"Right about here, Hagrid," came McGonagall's voice, still stern but sounding slightly worried.  
  
"No worries, Professor," said Hagrid cheerily. "Fang'll find 'er in two shakes. "I heard a deep rumbling WOOF and lay down in the brush. I saw a huge wolfhound enter the trees, followed by Hagrid himself. The dog was sniffing the air slightly, poised. I rolled my eyes. Show-off, I thought. The dog lowered its head and stared right at me.  
  
"Damn," I thought. I made an apologetic noise. "I forgot." The dog growled sympathetically.  
  
"Ye're one of those Animagi wizards then?" came the dog's voice in my head, sounding absurdly like Hagrid's. The dog himself trotted around a bit, to look as though he were doing something and giving us time for a small conversation.  
  
"No," I replied. "I'm a seregaur." The wolfhound stopped prancing and whimpered slightly. I made a low, soothing noise. "No worries, I'm not dangerous," I thought hurredly. The dog was still wary though.  
  
"Well." he convened resignedly. "All righ', I'll believe ye fer now. Ye comin' outta there? Or shall I go down the length of the forest a bit, give ye some private time?"  
  
"Bah, I suppose I'll come out," I related to him, standing up. I trotted out of my hiding place, thanking the wolfhound for his courtesy. I walked up to Hagrid and sat down patiently.  
  
"Professor," said Hagrid, smothering a grin in his bushy beard. "Professor, I think she's here." I followed Hagrid out of the trees to meet a very worried looking Professor McGonagall. Standing behind her were Ron and Hermione standing side by side, looking horrible, with Harry, still fuming, standing a few feet away.  
  
"What makes you so sure, Hagrid?" she asked convulsively. "There are many wolves in the Forest-"  
  
"This is 'er, Professor," said Hagrid, interrupting. "Came up and sat right at me boots, all resigned-like." I noticed that McGonagall was clutching a bundle of clothing; Mine, I thought suddenly. I sat down again. McGonagall glanced at me.  
  
"Hold these, Hagrid," she said briskly. Hagrid did so just as McGonagall transformed herself into a tabby cat. She sat down in front of me.  
  
"Miss Porter?" came McGonagall's voice inside my head. I let my shoulders slump.  
  
"Yes, Professor," I replied. I looked up again and McGonagall was back to herself. I thought I saw her give me a confused look, which also held sympathy. I realized that while she didn't know the reason why Harry and I were so upset, she did gather that we were not doing it for attention. McGonagall took my clothes back from Hagrid and turned to us four students.  
  
"Follow me," she said sharply, and headed back to the castle. I looked up at Harry's face, where amusement flashed under his anger. I bumped his leg in a friendly manner, hoping to convey that whatever was going on, we were in it together. Harry sent me a smile, and I felt better, however forced it had been. At least he accepted my help and comfort.  
  
We all followed McGonagall back to the castle, Harry in front with me trotting at his side, Hermione and Ron in back. I could feel their shame. They truly felt horrible about keeping whatever information they had from us. Well, they feel bad about Harry, said a spiteful voice in my mind. They hardly know you, what makes you think they care about you?  
  
I followed McGonagall through the entrance hall, hanging my head at this thought. It was true. Hermione and Ron had no reason to care about me. This was about Harry. I dimly realized that I was drawing attention. I hoped no one realized it was me.  
  
"Is that a wolf?" I heard someone whisper. I moved closer to Harry. Please don't let them know it's me, I pleaded. We followed McGonagall to the familiar gargoyle where I knew Dumbledore's office was hidden, and I felt my stomach sink. Oh no, I was going to be expelled for transforming! Dumbledore would tell me that I was a danger to the school, and they would expel me! I looked up at Harry, feeling panicky and hoping for reassurance, but I received none. Harry looked just as worried as I felt. I was suddenly horrified that I had possibly gotten Harry into trouble as well as myself. It seemed to go in slow motion, McGonagall whispering "Circus peanuts" to the statue, it jumped out of the way and revealed the spiral staircase, we trudged down the stairwell and walked to the door to Dumbledore's office. McGonagall rapped loudly on the door, and walked in.  
  
"Wait here," she said, placed my clothes on a chair in front of Dumbledore's desk, and disappeared into a different section of the office. Harry sunk into the other chair, while Hermione and Ron cowered near the door. I walked up to my clothes, grabbed them in my mouth, then went into what I observed was the bathroom. I transformed myself, not enjoying the normally pleasant tingling sensation of the change, got dressed quickly, and moved back into the room. Hermione and Ron looked up when I entered and seemed faintly surprised, but I ignored them, seating myself in the chair next to Harry's. McGonagall and Dumbledore returned, Dumbledore surveying us with a grave amusement. He sat down at his desk, and McGonagall left the office. I exchanged looks with Dumbledore.  
  
"Professor McGonagall informs me that you two would like some 'answers'," he began delicately. I glanced at Harry; he nodded vigorously. I looked back at Dumbledore. He was smiling.  
  
"I happen to agree that you deserve them," he said. "But seeing as there is five minutes until your next class, I think we should wait until after it ends." He raised an eyebrow. I opened my mouth to say that I would gladly miss my next class to hear the explanation, but then surprised myself with the more than relieved thought that I wasn't going to be expelled, and felt silly for ever thinking that.  
  
"Let's go," Harry said suddenly, speaking to me. I still wanted to object, but my mind was still in the wolf sense, and I couldnâEt think of the words. I followed Harry out of the office and all the way to the Gryffindor Common Room. We grabbed our stuff and left Ron and Hermione quickly. I had no idea where the room was, but Harry seemed to know where we were going, so I put my faith into him and followed soundlessly. I was torn between anger and worry; anger that information was being withheld from me, worried because I was about to encounter my stepfather in a place I wasn't supposed to be, without a plan. 


	12. Chapter Twelve

When we reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, I made a beeline for a seat in the back row. I sat down, immediately slouching in my chair to avoid attention. Harry sat in the seat beside me; Ron and Hermione wandered in wearily a moment later and took seats in the front of the class. The bell rang, making me jump. Harry gave me a small smile.  
  
"It'll be fine," he whispered. I nodded, though at what I wasn't sure. Just then, a door in the front corner of the class opened, and Robert Gilmore stepped out to meet his new class of fifth year Gryffindors.  
  
He was a fairly handsome man, though plain-looking, with dark brown hair and hazel-green eyes. A few inches taller than me, very trim, and usually business-like, I had expected a surprise seeing him in wizard robes, but he looked quite natural in them. He set his briefcase on his desk and searched around for a roll-sheet. Upon finding it, he looked up and surveying the class. I don't know what I had expected; perhaps a dramatic gasp, pointing fingers and maybe being sent home to New York. But he didn't even look at me. I suddenly felt indignant. He was going to ignore me?  
  
"Nice to meet you all," he said warmly. It sounded so familiar, and yet I was hurt; he spoke to them using the same manner he did with me, at home. Polite indifference, casual formality. "I'm Professor Gilmore," he continued, still looking around. "I usually work for the Department of International Magical Cooperation, in the American Ministry of Magic, but I received a letter from Headmaster Dumbledore asking me if I would be interested in this teaching job." I was gaping at him. How inconsiderate, how cold and unfeeling, to let me find out like this? Then again, came that taunting voice in the back of my brain. You didn't exactly put up an exposition and tell him about you being a witch AND a seregaur, did you?  
  
"I think I'll take roll first, before we start class," my stepfather was saying, as though to himself. The class was oddly quiet, and I realized with a shock that the story must have spread around that Gilmore was my stepfather. I smacked myself mentally. How could you ruin it so horribly, right off the bat! I scolded myself.  
  
"Longbottom, Neville," Gilmore was saying. Neville let out a small "Here!" and raised his hand nervously. Gilmore gave him a small smile, and went on down the list, receiving positive answers from everyone. Guess they didn't want to miss the showdown, I thought nastily.  
  
"Porter, Charlotte," he said finally; the way he said it, with such indifference, caused a surge of fury to go through me.  
  
"Present," I said loudly. He didn't look up, but made a small mark on the parchment, and started to proceed. I narrowed my eyes and coughed a little. He looked up and, with supreme effort that I took pleasure in, kept his face blank.  
  
"Yes, Miss Porter?" he inquired.  
  
"Just clearing my throat," I replied sweetly. I felt Harry poke at me; I brought my foot down on top of his. Gilmore forced a smile and continued.  
  
"Potter, Harry," he said, looking up with interest.  
  
"Here," said Harry, blinking from the pain in his foot. Gilmore went on.  
  
"Weasley, Ronald," he said at last. Ron ducked his head, and muttered a small "Here." I glanced at Harry, who gave me a grimace.  
  
"Now, most of this class will be hands-on," he said. A few students muttered their approval, but glanced at me nervously and quieted. "Right now, however, I have a small matter of business to attend to, so would you all open your books and turn to page forty-five..." I took out my book, and started to search for the page.  
  
"Miss Porter, would be so kind as to join me in my office?" he said in a tight voice. I looked up in surprise. Ah, so here it comes. Harry gave me an encouraging look, and I walked up to the desk, following my stepfather into his office.  
  
He shut the door and walked calmly to his office desk, sitting down. I noticed that he did not offer me a seat.  
  
"Charlotte," he began, but I cut him off. I was no longer worried about what he would think. I was angry.  
  
"You never told me you were a wizard," I snapped at him. It was an effort not shouting. "You said you,-"  
  
"Forgive my interruption, Charlotte," he said sharply. "But you didn't exactly tell me the complete truth either." I clenched my teeth and tried not to look taken aback.  
  
"I had to do it all by myself for four years," I told him venomously. "I had to go to school and be an outcast. I assume Dumbledore told you about what I am?" I demanded. He nodded. "A seregaur. I had to go through four years of ridicule at Salem. Thought of as a freak, a loner, some sort of wild animal. And you didn't even know," I spat. "You didn't care. So don't try to become all fatherly now. I take the good with the bad, so don't you dare try to give me the worst now, when all I got from you my entire life was exactly what I received in there." I threw a disgusted hand at the door that led back to the classroom. I was so angry, I couldn't think of anything else to say to him. "Accio Chair," I said furiously. A chair near the dusty window sped toward me, nearly knocking me over. I regained my balance and sat down sulkily. There was a long silence.  
  
"You're right," he said suddenly. My eyes widened in surprise. I was? "You're absolutely right. I did put as much emotional distance between the two of us as I could, over the years. I didn't want to know you, because I was afraid...that you would..." He trailed off.  
  
"That I would what?" I snapped, but my anger was fading.  
  
"Be like your mother," he said softly. I felt a jolt in my stomach. My mother? I thought blearily. What did she have to do with anything?  
  
"Charlotte, I know it was wrong of me not to explain anything," he said, firmly changing the subject. "But you have to see that it was wrong not telling me, too. You could have been in danger,-" He cut himself off suddenly, and I stared at him.  
  
"From what?" I asked. He looked panicky.  
  
"Let's go back to the class," he said, standing up abruptly. I did the same, following him back. "I'll explain more later," he said out of the corner of his mouth. Then, to the class, "Are you all done with the reading?" They all nodded. I wanted to protest, ask that he explain now, but shook my head and started walking back to my seat. When was I going to get some explanations?  
  
"Wait, Miss Porter," said my stepfather. I froze. I glanced at Harry, who gave me a scared look, and I had a good idea about what the reading had been about. I looked back at my stepfather, horrified. No...he wouldn't. I shook my head lightly, my eyes shooting to the students. They all looked anxious. Hermione had her hand to her mouth. But my stepfather hadn't noticed my warning.  
  
"Can anyone tell me what your reading was about?" he asked, pulling me to the front of the classroom. Of all the horrible things that had happened that day...  
  
Hermione raised her hand, trembling. Gilmore nodded at her, and she muttered something. "What was that?" he asked kindly. She glanced at me, terrified, and shook her head. Gilmore looked put out. "Anyone?"  
  
"It was about her," whispered Lavender Brown. I clenched my jaw tightly, forcing back tears. It wasn't supposed to be this way, not here. I came here for a new start, and it's just like it used to be. I'm still the one they point at. I'm still the one they're afraid of.  
  
"Yeah, but you don't have to be the victim." I frowned. Where did that come from? I looked around to see if anyone else had heard it. They were staring at me, but none gave any sign of having just spoken. My eyes riveted on Gavin Edhelorn. I hadn't even noticed he was there, but he was looking at me. Not like the rest.  
  
"That's right, you heard me." My eyes widened. His mouth didn't move. It was his voice, in my head. I narrowed my eyes.  
  
"Knock it off. Get out of my head. I don't need advice from you." I thought, hoping it would work. He grinned.  
  
"Oh really?" I nodded. "Then take charge. Don't let him treat you like a specimen." I started to reply, then realized he was right. Gilmore was treating me like a guinea pig, like some sort of example for the class. I turned, suddenly feeling enfuriated. Don't let your anger ruin this, I told myself.  
  
".is an example of a seregaur," Gilmore was saying. "They are extremely rare. One of the parents must be a werewolf, and one a wizard for the child to turn out to be a seregaur. Even-"  
  
"Even then there only stands a one in four chance for the child's genetics to be that of a seregaur," I said in a bored voice. Gilmore looked at me, bewildered. "Yeah, yeah. It's all textbook. They just read that, why do they have to hear you repeat it?" I paused, looking around. Everyone was terrified. I sighed. "Look.I'm not dangerous. I'm not an animal. I'm a witch. A witch with the natural-born ability to transfigure herself into a wolf, and that's ALL. I'm just an Animagus. I can't hurt you any more than the person sitting next to you. I know there are already rumors, but I want to put a stop to them NOW. So.I guess, if anyone has a question for me, ask it." There was a shocked silence. I surveyed the room, boldly awaiting whatever they were going to shoot at me. Ron raised his hand timidly. I nodded at him.  
  
"Er.if you wanted to.couldn't you bite me?" he asked. A few people giggled. My step-father had apparently lost his voice. I managed to suppress my laughter.  
  
"If you wanted to, couldn't you bite me?" I repeated his question to Parvati Patil. She jumped at being spoken to, but blinked for a few moments, then nodded. I turned to Gavin. "You could bite me too, right?" He nodded, chuckling. I swiveled to Gilmore. "Professor, you could bite me if you wanted to, correct?" He smiled.  
  
"Yes, yes I could Miss Porter." I turned triumphantly to the class.  
  
"Ron, what I'm trying to get at is.Harry could bite Lavender.Neville could bite Hermione.yes, it is possible that they could. But would they?" I demanded. He shook his head. "Of course not. Can anyone tell me why?"  
  
"Because it's daft, that's why," said Seamus Finnigan loudly. The class erupted in laughter.  
  
"Any more questions?" I asked, smiling.  
  
"Then why do people make such a big deal out of it?" said Dean Thomas. "Why are they afraid of you?" My smile disappeared.  
  
"Well." I didn't know what to say.  
  
"In precisely the same way," said Harry, standing up, "as you are all afraid to say You-know-who." I gave him a grateful look. He walked to the front of the class and squeezed my arm comfortingly. "What is so bad about saying a NAME? Fear of a name only inspires fear of the thing itself," he continued. I noted that he exchanged a sly glance with Hermione. I thought perhaps she had said it first. "You all walked into this classroom afraid not of Charlie, but of the rumors you heard about her. And that, my friends," he leaned in confidently, "makes no sense." Everyone laughed.  
  
"Okay," I said, still giggling. Then, in a sing-song voice, "So what's the one conclusion I can bring this number to?"  
  
"You're a witch," spoke up Gavin. "You're our equal. And you're good with public speaking," he added. My cheeks turned pink and the class chuckled. Harry and I took a bow and returned to our seats. Everyone clapped. When the applause died down, my stepfather took the stage once more, smiling.  
  
"My point in subjecting Miss Porter to this torture," he said, casting an apologetic look in my direction, "was to not only correct a stereotype, but to build a bit of trust among you. If you all do not trust.or are scared stiff.of another person in this class, how can you work together? This first day was only an icebreaker. Get to know your classmates, because you need to be able to trust them with your lives. Class dismissed." 


End file.
